Trailing along the tree farm, the winter breeze runs past my lips. The exhilarating chill seeps into my body with a remembrance of our love celebrated last year. The sun comes out and we feel his warmth touch our face. This is love.
When did I become the moon? Engrossed in dark femininity, trying to maintain my light for myself and others. I shine most of the time but I still have times of darkness. When people think of me, they forget about the phase when I fade away. When my light goes out and I feel like I can’t move on. Luckily, everything happens in phases.
She leans against a pylon in the empty train stop. Her hair is blowing in the breeze and the sounds of the rustling leaves fills her head. The season is changing.
She is not yet where she hoped to be in this new season. She is no where near where she wanted to be. Actually, she hasn’t tried to change at all.
A plane flies overhead and she can feel the rumble of the engine vibrating in her feet. She wants to run but she is paralyzed. Her feet are detached from her brain. Her toes are rooted through the cement beneath her feet, dug deep underground amongst the dirt, amongst the bugs.
A blown leaf catches on her foot. She looks down and moves her feet apart. She has been a barrier for herself. She doesn’t want to block anyone or anything else. The leaf loses grip and floats away with the wind, to continue its destiny.
The lonely sinks in after 3 nights of sitting on the screen porch. Complete quiet except for the low buzz of the insects in the grass. She sits there in her thoughts while she looks out for some wildlife company.
After some time, she hears some rustling from the edge of the wood and in the distance she spots two eyes. A deer has come to feed on the dandelions.
Their eyes connect. She understands that the deer wants his space. The deer understands that she will give him peace. She finds comfort in no longer being alone.
I am trying to find the words to paint my memory. To illustrate how ridiculous our actions were. Years ago, in the car, turning from one forested street to another, the sun shining through the trees. The backdrop was calm. It did not fit the scene. We were screaming over nothingness, making accusations and exclamations, shoving one another. Hormones were high and the wounds were deep. We were hurting each other.
I was ungrateful – and to be honest, I still am. My feelings are tainted by pain that is self-inflicted. I am sick and I am sad.