Yesterday I spent an hour lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It's strange how time seems to slow down when your thoughts are picking at your heart, like tiny nail clippers with their awful snapping sounds.
Yet, the whiteness of the ceiling was soothing. Those rolling waves of white nothingness numb the throbbing pain in my mind and my heart. Although watching the sky would have been much better, I was unable, incapable or unwilling to go outside. My house is my refuge. It was all I had left after losing the war three years ago. From the rubble I built this bunker, from the bunker I grew a home. My house is my refuge, I storm it alone.
At this very moment I wish I was back there, lying on the floor and thinking about nothing at all. Because all I can think of right now is you, you and the smile I robbed from your face. Nothing made me happier than making you happy, making you smile, watching that glimmer in your eyes.
A crude awakening like an icy shower in January, just as you start to pry open the right eyelid that always seems to take longer than the left. The water's got me shivering and panting but I can't help myself, I was suffocating in the warmth of your embrace.
And so tonight I know where I'll be, back on that floor, staring at the ceiling and feeling the aberrant purge of your kisses and your tenderness. No war this time, just a pinnacle of surrender where nobody wins. No prisoners of war, just two casualties. Just... defeat.
1 comment:
I loved it....I felt identified, how sometimes the most simple things such as a white ceiling, give you the biggest comfort and peace, thank you.
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