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The Other One
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The Other One |
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amusemi Senior Member
since 2001-12-08
Posts 1262A State of Disarray |
Underneath the bruised sky we dash to shelter, winded and carressing the air without rain. He is the man I love, beyond reason, beyond care, but he doesn't love me. I search for eyes that avoid mine, and try to pretend, again and again that loving him is enough, for there is no one like him. I fancy dancing with him in air, in rain, and skimming angels in the snow, but I know I serve one purpose and one alone. I am the moment of distraction, for I see her imprint within his eyes. Fighting to be the best I can I am doomed to fail. But I linger on. Wishing my perpetual dream, this role I play over and over in my life. It is all I know, all I will ever feel. Alone, in arms that pay me to be there. Payment in kindness without love, or dinners as a companion, or a lover without tender touch. These are the ones willing to choose me. The rest are just a dream. A vision of men, arms entwined with women who hold their attention in the mall, or fight in front of co-workers about unwashed dishes. A man has never known my soul, nor the beauty of life I hold so dear. I am a pair of breasts, a convenience, a breath of temporary. So yearning is my world, my fantasy, a friend who keeps me company in the loneliness of night. It is the bruised sky that mirrors my heart, and rain which stains my cheeks with tears I dare not shed. The angels in the snow are the symbol of guardians who have abandonned me and the wind is the only whisper of love I am deemed to hear. |
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ShadowRider Senior Member
since 2001-07-14
Posts 1038USA |
Katrina, this is a blind heart, bleating, unable to shine a mirror at itself, living with the thoughts of what is worthiness. Perhaps we covet too much, have too many choices and make the hardest ones our goals, then cry the tears of failure when the bridge to it spans too long. All this is attainable, but the end journey must be in sight....always. I see in your work a goal of sameness embraced by another. Some call it 'stealing another's dreams.' When two dare to share the same dream, only one may sleep in a night's time. Your prose is silken chords and knots that binds wishes, hopes. And they tug not so gently at the same silk of a reader. Be gentle with yourself, Katrina. When we face ourself as a foe, there is never a victor. Jeff |
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