I can watch the leaf get torn from its home on high by a callous wind. It’ll fall down into the waiting current of a river.
Then I can imagine myself on that leaf. Rudderless and subject to the whims of the water. Floating gently down the middle of the river. Savoring those moments in the sun and catching my breath in the shade of the trees.
I’d dream of a destination. Where I’d finally find that peace I’d heard her talk about. And these tattered rags of my trials could fall away from me.
Alas though. I followed the leaf. It ended up on the muddy embankment. Because it’s just a leaf. It’s journey wasn’t grand. It lived and will die with no notice.
It seems. Most times. No matter how much I’d like something to be more than what it is. It turns out to be just another dead leaf.
In my mind, I can **** you. I could love you. And still **** you. I’ve let you in for now. Out from the rain. Beside the firelight.
And we’ll talk. For minutes, hours, days, or years.
I’ll get to know the person you want me to know. And in turn I’ll do the same for you. Like a table and a chair. We won’t need each other.
Though it’ll be nice just to have the other there.
And yet. When all is said. I’ll know how you like your tea. You’ll know how to make me laugh. And then.
Then there will inevitably come a day. When I’ll ask if you’d like more tea. You’ll say “yes”. So I’ll get up and walk around behind you to put the kettle on.
And just before you say something foolish like “I love you”. I’ll cut your throat and drag your carcass out of the cabin into the cold.
I’ll go back inside my cabin and shut the door without looking at you. Then I’ll wash the tea cup you were using and put it up in the cubbard.
Not because I don’t love you. On the contrary. I love you more than the wolf loves the moon.
It was because you loved me.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She’d **** like a *****. Not one man but two. One day she happened. To see what they saw. And right there and then. She caught sight of her flaw. It wasn’t that she was a bad person you see. She was just dead and not meant to be.
These thoughts are my own, not yours to gather. They’re not to be trusted, or tossed if you rather.
Don’t take them to heart because that’s not where their from. In fact I don’t know from whence these thoughts should come.
Just as your thoughts get passed from your ***. They’ll disperse to the heavens like so much gas.
It just doesn’t matter what we think of each other. Whether you be a wife, son, or brother.
Instead I will urge you, to rely just on yourself. Be who you want, and put who you are on the shelf.
I used to have this friend. She’d find me when I was alone with myself. And whisper to me from the shadows.
Sometimes she was kind. She’d tell me everything was ok. She knew that I knew that it wasn’t. Though she knew I liked to think it so.
Other times. She was cruel. She’d say my name once. Just to make me think someone was there for me. Because she knew that that was all I ever wanted.
I’d swear sometimes I could hear laughter fading.
She was both my bane and my balm. My friend in the darkness.
Then there was that night. I stared long into the shadows in the corner of my room. Hoping to hear her voice. But all I heard was the wind outside.
I asked myself where she’d gone. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. How could I ever tell myself she was never actually there?