Funhouse
It’s been 25 days since he had left and the days where turning into a blur of moments that lack meaning and feeling. I wore my smile like a jacket but it has yet to keep me warm. His fingers had still caressed me in sleep and his breathe still warmed my neck in dreaming but when I awoke I only wanted to be back there. To that place where our moments were slow, and I could feel each second as if it were an hour and my dreams were not dreams but where reality. When the walls of that reality began to close in around me I would look up at the stars and see his eyes. He said they were black but I saw deep blue swirling in a deeper purple and dotted with the memories of those who had hurt him. I could see it clearly; the doubt in his eyes when we exchanged I love you’s would reflect back into mine. But the doubt never belonged to me; we were just standing on opposite sides of a mirror in a fun house that he trapped us in. Forever looking at distorted images of each other, but never seeing the original copy. 25 days ago he walked out of the fun house and left me surrounded by mirrors where I could see me for everything I was. After the tears had fallen and my eyes were dry, I saw myself. The original copy. Without him here I can no longer see the cracks in my lips from days of shouted words to deaf ears. No more broken memories floating in my brown sea of flowing tears.
No more.
I am walking out of the fun house now. I’m not looking up at the sky. My dreams are just dreams. My smile warms me like a breeze of a San Diego summer day and it’s getting easier not to miss him. The days don’t blur into one another and the walls of reality constantly close in, but I welcome her as she wraps her arms around me and tells me everything will be alright. I’m free.
|