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Love me or not , here I am

20 Feb

Fading

Published by Ela Hadzic

It's just the pain I think. The pain of remembering, the feeling of pastime aches and the moments. Haven't quite figured what it is that hurts more, the time spent or the love wasted. One moment I was young and careless, the next old and careful.  When I get the 'heart in my mouth' feeling I get totally lost, I am then standing at a crossroad: Which has no beginning or an end and that's where it kicks in. The words, the.memories , the flashbacks. Reality of it all is as loud as the bells on Sunday, I know you can hear them. I take a walk down familiar roads, pen in my hand , you in my heart. Time moves before me so fast that I don't blink twice before your image is in front of me and there I speak to you. I say all that I have not said, things I have missed and left out, things you have missed and forgotten about but, I can feel you I still feel your last words. Then again the flashbacks, I see you, I feel you, I fear you. It comes in beats, like the ones in my chest, so fast rewinding it before my eyes and there you are talking, laughing and looking , staring in fact. What was it that you kept seeing in my eyes? Then, the air and noise and reality hits again as I begin to write yet another 'Dearest' page, adding to the collection of the rest of the pages I never sent.  I feel it again , then again....pain...sorrow..so deep I can taste it. I write my last line , that one is always the same. I don't sign it , I never have ...I leave a >i<  .... I walk back, each time a different path and sometimes Its too small that soon I think to myself I will run out of paths, and the fear of one day taking one which leads me straight to you. Imagine that..... Walking back, thoughts running through me as each memory of words I'd just written begin to ...fade. I know you will never read them, maybe that is the core, the root of it all. But I tell you all the the things you would have wanted to know by now, and you would know I have not changed, not at all... I still love the rain, I listen to the same songs, I read the same books (all but one) . I leave my door open when I fall asleep , because 'only there can I find you'. I wipe the tears of my face, as always I don't even realise I wept- the eyes are quite used to that, just as my body is programmed to do without you. Things you wouldn't know about, but one thing remains, the fear of the very last time of seeing you with my eyes open....until a few months back. . . . . I lock the door behind me , throw my coat and stare in the mirror. Everything quietens down at that moment, the words the memories the thoughts - slowly melting into thin air... and the once young me disappearing into an old fragile woman.... and everything is different now...everything but the eyes.

It's just the pain I think. The pain of remembering, the feeling of pastime aches and the moments. Haven't quite figured what it is that hurts more, the time spent or the love wasted. One moment I was young and careless, the next old and careful. When I get the 'heart in my mouth' feeling I get totally lost, I am then standing at a crossroad: Which has no beginning or an end and that's where it kicks in. The words, the.memories , the flashbacks. Reality of it all is as loud as the bells on Sunday, I know you can hear them. I take a walk down familiar roads, pen in my hand , you in my heart. Time moves before me so fast that I don't blink twice before your image is in front of me and there I speak to you. I say all that I have not said, things I have missed and left out, things you have missed and forgotten about but, I can feel you I still feel your last words. Then again the flashbacks, I see you, I feel you, I fear you. It comes in beats, like the ones in my chest, so fast rewinding it before my eyes and there you are talking, laughing and looking , staring in fact. What was it that you kept seeing in my eyes? Then, the air and noise and reality hits again as I begin to write yet another 'Dearest' page, adding to the collection of the rest of the pages I never sent. I feel it again , then again....pain...sorrow..so deep I can taste it. I write my last line , that one is always the same. I don't sign it , I never have ...I leave a >i< .... I walk back, each time a different path and sometimes Its too small that soon I think to myself I will run out of paths, and the fear of one day taking one which leads me straight to you. Imagine that..... Walking back, thoughts running through me as each memory of words I'd just written begin to ...fade. I know you will never read them, maybe that is the core, the root of it all. But I tell you all the the things you would have wanted to know by now, and you would know I have not changed, not at all... I still love the rain, I listen to the same songs, I read the same books (all but one) . I leave my door open when I fall asleep , because 'only there can I find you'. I wipe the tears of my face, as always I don't even realise I wept- the eyes are quite used to that, just as my body is programmed to do without you. Things you wouldn't know about, but one thing remains, the fear of the very last time of seeing you with my eyes open....until a few months back. . . . . I lock the door behind me , throw my coat and stare in the mirror. Everything quietens down at that moment, the words the memories the thoughts - slowly melting into thin air... and the once young me disappearing into an old fragile woman.... and everything is different now...everything but the eyes.

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Love me or not , here I am