My soul left me. He was wrapped up and covered in that grey state. Grey; the colour of the cloud that rides above my bowed head. He stepped onto that plane, into that bubble where he was alone with his mind and left me on the outskirts with that dark cloud that rained over my head, inundating my insides. He left me empty and yearning.
Then he saw in my eyes a weakness for another. But he had been gone. I was cold. I was weak and I was cold. The other drifted towards me like magnetised iron filings, springing up from their sleep, heated by a force of lust that I didn’t think was even there. He whispered in my ears and promised warmth and affection even though it would be just once…or twice, thrice if I was up to it. And I was. That’s all I needed after all. I had been cold and empty.
And so my soul left me, probably for good this time. He did not have to hear the moans and groans of my flesh nor how it shivered and shook for the other. He touched me and I flinched. He sang to me and I cringed. And so he knew.
I had tried to go back. To sip on the nectar that was his love to remind myself of its warmth and candour. I sipped to try and savour it so that my spirits would be reawakened to tell tales of his essence and its brilliance and yet still nothing.
I was numb and I was dumb.
Dumb enough to go rushing back to the arms of the other, the whisperer of sweet things that reinvigorated my senses. But my voucher had run out. The light in his eyes had grown dim and the flare in his touch gone grim. And then I was awake and like a sudden falling of rain after a drought, it came back to me, the sweetness and fullness that my soul gave me.
But he knows. I know he knows. He has grown silent and desolate. Closed the door in my face and locked himself away. I am now banging on his door, this entrance to his heart space. If only he could let me in, all would be well…I hope. If only he could let me in, I wouldn’t be so cold.
If thou stared at the photo used in this post and did not find thyself moved, thou needs a new set of eyes…lol. No. Not lol, seriously. To stare and ogle at more amzing wprk by the talented Tatiana Karanja, visit her site tatianakaranja.com Go on. you know you want to.
I didn’t have a clue on what title to give this so I took the easy way out; colours, single words that are supposed to be poignant. The first title I came up with was “Stiff” and that’s only because of a typo because I meant to write “Stuff” until I was done piecing this together then it kinda stuck until it didn’t make sense…(atte now wat it is stiff, nti stiff) lol.
If you ask what this all is, I will tell you honestly, I’m not even sure. I guess it will mean something different for everyone. This is what happens when you fall get caught up reading emotional and heart wrenching stories on the internet in the middle of the night instead of sleeping. This is also me trying to produce a post each week. How do people do this? Lord, help me!!!