Mornings are made for
your warm arms around me, and
the smell of coffee
You are the worst. You’re despicable. You deserve their hate. You are a disappointment. You know it’s true. No one likes you.
These are the vicious words that torment her at night. Karma for her nasty behavior. I am the worst. She knew what she was doing and knew it was wrong. There is no single good enough excuse she can say to justify her actions. Serves me right. So she lets guilt and regret eat her up inside as she lies awake in bed with tears in her eyes. Again, the angel shakes his head and the demon smiles.
She wants to get away from here. She’s stuck. She’s been stuck for so long. Alice is at a place where nothing happens – nothing bad, nothing good, nothing at all.
Every day she wakes up longing for an adventure, for excitement to stir her bones. Every night, she dreams of a new world where different people she have never met before welcome her with open arms.
Alice wants to explore a universe where passion is not dead and art fills every corner. Alice wants to engage in conversations with people from different cultures, talking about things that matter.
Alice wants so many things.
She tells me this while she sits on her cold hard bed inside this dank almost airless cell, as she described it.
I let my eyes roam around the large room, from the yellow and white walls, to the spotless and plush carpeted floor, and to the open floor-to-ceiling French windows. I clasp my papers tightly as the sweet spring breeze swept into the room.
Right now, Alice can’t do anything but make her stay here worthwhile. I’m sure that when she leaves and go to some unknown place, she will miss the familiarity, the routine, the safety and comfort of home.
She asks me to tell her stories from my work. I’m a fiction writer for a magazine so there’s nothing much to say about it except hours spent in front of a computer, unending research, and note-taking.
She demands to know what I have been working on. She shifted her position and moved closer to me, her face eager. A long white scar runs from her eyebrow to the side of her mouth, a stark reminder of the unfortunate accident that has befallen her.
I turn to my dear friend, noticing the space where her leg should be, should have been touching mine.
Alice noticed me noticing.
“Stop looking for it! It’s not coming back you know!”
She often jokes about her injury. Even though I know it still bothers her, she always meant to laugh it off. And I always laugh with her. She then asks me again what I’ve been writing.
I tell Alice a story about a little girl who wished she can grow wings so she can fly, touch the clouds, feel the wind in her hair, kiss the stars, and go to anywhere she wants so go.
Two months have passed, but there still remains a mark that cannot be erased. I feel it whenever I move. Even in slumber, it won’t leave my mind. I’d like to think that the pain is worth it. But is it really? In the long run, it probably is. The risks that were taken and the sacrifices that were made… can they really be conquered by this wishful thinking? That this is my new beginning. That after all the pain is gone, a fresh start awaits. I lived and died and was born again. It would be good if I can always think that. Years from now, when I look at the mirror, I hope this reminder will bring back happy memories.
Here he comes, punctual and confident. As expected, he’s wearing the navy suit with the matching red necktie as he does every third Wednesday of the month. His hair a little disheveled. Looking a little tired but gorgeous as always. He reads something on his phone, then the adorable frown on his forehead appears. I shamelessly continue to ogle him. He never looks my way. We say our usual good mornings. Finally, he disappears into his private office. With a dreamy sigh, I turn to my computer. My everyday routine. Pathetic butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The silly crush continues.
We all have those days when it feels like the universe is against us. Today was one of those days for me.
This week has been eventful. I was waking up too early in the morning, going place to place, and meeting with people. Adding the stressful commute situation in Metro Manila and the constant heavy rain, each day was bound to be exhausting. However, today was the worst. I was faced with conditions I couldn’t control and I was completely let down.
The weather was so bad. The traffic was impossible. My clothes were drenched and dirty. I was hungry. I couldn’t get a ride. I was feeling sick. My body is weak and my spirit seems broken. My mood is at its lowest.
My situation was really bad, but I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one having a hard time. There were people going through the same sad experience. But I knew then that I was done for the day. There was nothing else I could do but go home before I get stranded by the coming flood. In the end, I couldn’t make it to an appointment and had to reschedule.
It’s life. Almost everything is like a test… “How bad do you want this?” “How far are you willing to go to get what you want?”… I was really fired up like a warrior in combat. I’ve been looking forward to that meeting. I wanted to go so bad. But I was defeated. The universe held me back.
Oh well, that’s life. Next week is another battle. You know what they say, “fall down 7 times, get up 8“.
Photo by Alex Dukhanov on Unsplash
Both nervous and shy
Unsteady hands, shallow breaths
© Unending Reverie by Shayne 2018
Photo by Min An from Pexels
Slowly I move a little closer,
and closer still,
until the distance between us disappears
We both know what’s coming
Your gaze lowers, shy,
hiding warm chocolate-brown eyes
A flutter of dark eyelashes
Pink coloring your snow-white cheeks
Skin to skin, almost
It’s too much,
but it’s never enough
Your hand above my pounding heart
Your heart in my hand
Nothing can come between us
Finally, we are kissing
Tongues slow dancing
It feels like a fairy tale ending
© Unending Reverie by Shayne 2018
The howling dog from down the street stirred the quiet night. He shouldn’t be here, doing this. He has no right. But he couldn’t stay away. For one last time, he had to make sure.
He walks down the familiar path towards the back of the house, only stopping by the flowerbed for some pebbles. The air feels heavy. His hands sweaty. He throws the pebbles at her window like he used to. He holds his breath.
The curtains didn’t part. No silhouette appeared. His chest hurts.
The window remained closed,
like her heart,
never to open for him again.