Wednesday, March 11, 2009

In which I remember things I don't want to think about

I saw him in the cafeteria and walked away quickly, with my head down. How easily the memories and heartaches come back.

Is it that they flood over me? No, they come in a mist turns the world grey. Water droplets crowd the surface of my glasses. Everything blurs. Each particle of wetness, of cold, is a moment: a word, a glance, a gap in the conversation, a touch, a stab of pain, a smile that rends the heart, a compliment. A kiss. A text message. The cloud that keeps me from seeing that building is one of our many arguments: swirls of words and frustration, misunderstandings and too-perceptive comments, tears that never left my eyes, interruptions and the sentences that never lived out their lives.

He didn't see me, I think. I hope.

When will the season for reconciliation come?

No comments: