The wind, with its salt precipitate, tangles tiny knots in my hair. You sit across me, no words are spoken, thoughts are lost amidst the ruckus of inebriated table mates. You are lost in polite conversation. I sit looking directly at you. Every so often you glance at me, your eyelids seem weighed down by those heavy, black lashes. When I am with you, I do not mind the taste of beer, I gulp it down and the aftertaste is like I have chewed on a mouthful of straw. Conversation drifts to your new mobile, you explain its features, all excited, your fingers fly over the keypad. “Look at the picture clarity”, you say, and pass the mobile around for inspection. At my turn I politely flick through the photographs till it stops at hers.
My face must have drained itself of blood, for you crane your neck to see what I am looking at and as your eyes meet mine I see a thousand words in them, but I am suddenly stripped of the ability to read. My hands tremble and the phone clatters down. Nobody notices. Except you. No one knows. Except you. I stay the required few moments to maintain the semblance of normalcy and then step out of the shack. The sea is black, the wind stings, there is salt on my lips.
My shoulders are slouched and my head is bent. I walk with hands in my jeans pocket to keep them from trembling. I reach the edge of the ocean and I stop, the surf dies at my feet. Tears stream down my face and my despair is absolute. I don’t wince, I don’t sob, I can’t even decide if I feel anything, yet grief wells out from my eyes as if from a spring. I don’t question why. I am just overcome by the impurity that another person’s shadow cast on us. Now, we will never be perfect, we have been sullied, we are not pure. Then my soul starts screaming your name and I picture myself running along the shore, wailing.
For a while, I do not realize you have followed me, mired deep as I am in what has transpired. You stand next to me, barefoot, arms folded across your chest, body weight balanced on your left leg. Even in the defensive stance, I notice how beautiful your profile is, and become aware of how magnetically drawn I am to the spiky bursts of energy around you, your maleness. And I have lost you, for we are no longer pure, we have been defiled by the name, the thought, the presence of another person.
That does not mean I do not love you. I do. I do love you, but I must leave. Because we have been sullied, we are no longer pure. And before I say goodbye I must ensure I cause you no misery or guilt. So I say, “I’m just being silly. It’s okay”, and stretch my mouth into a smile, taking care that it reflects in my eyes. I don’t know if I succeed. And you say, “I love you.”
I do smile a little now. My sadness is unbearable. “No, I understand. It really is okay”
“I love you”
“You don’t have to explain. It’s not meant to be anyway”
“I love you”
I giggle at that, “See! It’s okay. I am a big girl. I’m okay. Don’t worry”
“I love you”
I go on mumbling inanities and you punctuate each bit of in-between silence with an ‘I love you’. Then I stop, you take my name and say that you love me and god knows how much you want to be with me and that you love me some more.
My love, my love, my heart is a garden over which you love blows as a gentle breeze. I will come to no harm when you are with me. Every ‘I love you’ that rolls from your lips is carried by the wind. If I ever feel sad again a merciful breeze shall gently drape those words around me.
When we leave, the catamarans are motes of yellow that bob along the horizon.
My face must have drained itself of blood, for you crane your neck to see what I am looking at and as your eyes meet mine I see a thousand words in them, but I am suddenly stripped of the ability to read. My hands tremble and the phone clatters down. Nobody notices. Except you. No one knows. Except you. I stay the required few moments to maintain the semblance of normalcy and then step out of the shack. The sea is black, the wind stings, there is salt on my lips.
My shoulders are slouched and my head is bent. I walk with hands in my jeans pocket to keep them from trembling. I reach the edge of the ocean and I stop, the surf dies at my feet. Tears stream down my face and my despair is absolute. I don’t wince, I don’t sob, I can’t even decide if I feel anything, yet grief wells out from my eyes as if from a spring. I don’t question why. I am just overcome by the impurity that another person’s shadow cast on us. Now, we will never be perfect, we have been sullied, we are not pure. Then my soul starts screaming your name and I picture myself running along the shore, wailing.
For a while, I do not realize you have followed me, mired deep as I am in what has transpired. You stand next to me, barefoot, arms folded across your chest, body weight balanced on your left leg. Even in the defensive stance, I notice how beautiful your profile is, and become aware of how magnetically drawn I am to the spiky bursts of energy around you, your maleness. And I have lost you, for we are no longer pure, we have been defiled by the name, the thought, the presence of another person.
That does not mean I do not love you. I do. I do love you, but I must leave. Because we have been sullied, we are no longer pure. And before I say goodbye I must ensure I cause you no misery or guilt. So I say, “I’m just being silly. It’s okay”, and stretch my mouth into a smile, taking care that it reflects in my eyes. I don’t know if I succeed. And you say, “I love you.”
I do smile a little now. My sadness is unbearable. “No, I understand. It really is okay”
“I love you”
“You don’t have to explain. It’s not meant to be anyway”
“I love you”
I giggle at that, “See! It’s okay. I am a big girl. I’m okay. Don’t worry”
“I love you”
I go on mumbling inanities and you punctuate each bit of in-between silence with an ‘I love you’. Then I stop, you take my name and say that you love me and god knows how much you want to be with me and that you love me some more.
My love, my love, my heart is a garden over which you love blows as a gentle breeze. I will come to no harm when you are with me. Every ‘I love you’ that rolls from your lips is carried by the wind. If I ever feel sad again a merciful breeze shall gently drape those words around me.
When we leave, the catamarans are motes of yellow that bob along the horizon.
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