Why I Still Lie Here

11731259_10207146982453113_1599505227_oI wonder how it’ll be once I’ve finally left, when this pain from our memories touch me not anymore. ‘Cause right now, I am begging for tears to fall, for my heart to break into pieces, and for this agony to end. I am, have been, incapable of crying, old friend. My eyes wouldn’t give way to the haunting that every bit of tissue, and muscle, and bone, in this fragile structure experience daily, excruciatingly. The hollowness and frigidity that exists at present, is too much for my pride to externalize.

I remember watching you sleep recently, thinking-nagging at myself this question, “Why do you still lie there?”. I convinced myself that you are someone I know, and someone who still knows me, and we love, but the fact that your back was turned away from mine proved otherwise. With your strong back, the walls that define and stand between us came alive and had me sleepless, hopeless, and distraught, beside you. For I knew—here’s the man I want to hug forever but he has turned into a stranger, the kind who’d let me cradle him in my arms, peck at his lips for a while, and make myself believe that he isn’t gone when for certain, he is, had left years ago.

At that moment, my heart broke yet again, for all the years, for all the memories, for all the things that I’m still chasing and keep on missing. Indeed, why did  I remain beside you, welcoming and accepting the leftovers and crumbs and morsels of the person who used to take me, for me?

This must be what they call losing yourself. For in my desire to keep the stranger, I’ve become estranged to myself. I harbor thoughts like, “Up to when, ’til what end, why and how can I be this stupid?”. But perhaps having you in such moments of temporal bliss is enough, should be more than enough. Enough to fill the void of being without you, which is the very gaping hole that has ripped my sanity apart.

But it’s dark again, old friend, and the cold embrace of this unexpectedly windy summer night comes creeping in, numbing all senses, drumming at the chest, begging for them eyes to weep, for this tired soul to catch some solace, get some rest, and feel wanted somehow.

I want to shout and unleash all that keeps me hostage, in a rage of screams and river of tears; unfortunately, the gravest of pain, from the deepest of wounds, bear no tears. And the heaviest of tears are the type that never make it down our cheeks. They form and begin to plague in the head, drizzle the mind with fantasies and doubts and questions, carry hurt in warm, shock-wave intensity, then reach the heart for a tug in the most sensitive of strings in the body. After the commotion, the hurry-burly, these tears collapse in the throat but never disappear in our system. It would probably take months or years of expunging to be rid of them. These tears, they transpose, into scars in the soul that you’d rather wish they fall and just be over with.

I wonder how it’ll be once I’ve finally left, when I’ve truly walked away, from me and you, and all our ghosts that lurk, always.

P.S. I am re-posting this old piece written on March 13 2013 because of Tom Odell’s song “I Know”. The MV is attached below. =)

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