Saturday, August 21, 2010

No punctuation.

Alone my chest grows heavy as I heave my self from my morbid sleep. Lifting my body, not my spirits, up into the world. I start to walk to the other room, where my reflection awaits me with that daunting stare. A stare not of admiration, or of pity. But a stare found somewhere between the two. I raise a hand, slowly, always carefully, I do not wish to frighten the stare away. I raise it close enough to touch the fair skin of one cheek, only close enough. Never touching, I dare not touch her. I search through her gaze, as she searches through mine, both of us not exactly sure what we hope to find. I am afraid to find something in her that I am not able to reveal to myself. The truth I know but can not say aloud. The green eyes I stare into, are looking into hazel. I have changed, the colors have changed. Where will I be when I live next to water, on the coast of a new horizon, where the moments may not seem the same. Where the moments I once got lost in, may no longer exist. Will I be happy. Will I suddenly seem so alright. Will I not miss them. I do not punctuate these with question marks, because I am not sure they can be classified as questions. I do not wish to ask them, I do not wish to know these answers.

A rush of water drowns my thoughts and my face is now wet, I have caused her to disappear.

Alone, my chest feels heavy once again, if not heavier.

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