In the morning, you pass by a bed of roses. You think you hear them call out to you. Faint. You are definite that they are calling out to you. It sounds like people crying.
"This is insane," you utter under your breath.
The flowers weep after you. They know your secret. Everyday you carry it around like a foetus in a womb, getting bigger and bigger as the day passes. You weep in your heart and force yourself to swallow the pain.
"Pain is good for me, it will make me stronger for tomorrow," you chant.
But unlike an expecting mother, you'd rather it not see the sunlight of day. It is better kept this way, you agreed. Everyone around you tells you,
"We understand exactly how you feel..."
And with all your heart you wish to tell them, "Right, I feel like sodding it up your ass and see how you understand it". Instead, you pretend to be touched. It is easier that way, too. Exhausted from all the fake things in a relationship, you feel like you are falling out of love. Or is just being out of love?
When the day ends, you walk back to the coldness of your own solitude.
And this time, you hear the roses. Distinct.
2 comments:
aha..ari tu ada kin cakap jumpa cafe nama sama. len kali dtg KL kita pegi minum2 sama-sama ek
haitt..must go and have drinks with u and the rest some day =) pas grad nnti sure byk mase kte huhu
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