Memories float up in that moment between wakefulness and sleep. Just as the mind lowers its defenses... The demons in the recesses come to the fore.
This time it is an elusive tune, in a voice that has been long thrown into the labyrinthine spaces of the abyss that resides in the cold dark corner of the heart.
The mind though... Is relentless. It now embarks on a journey to identify the song, for it cannot rest until it has all the answers.
The mind though... Is relentless. It now embarks on a journey to identify the song, for it cannot rest until it has all the answers.
Finally the lyrics and the tune ... And the only image that floods the mind and the heart is his. an uncomfortable and unenviable range of emotions flow through making sleep impossible and she lies awake thinking how would it be... The night is filled with what ifs and sighs and soft slow sobs.
She lies awake imagining him with his wife, and a knife plunges itself into her heart, almost as if enjoying the pain, she thinks of them smiling, kissing and ..... and the knife starts its twist slowly into her heart, drawing blood that flow out as tears from her eyes. The tune, the lyrics, they haunt her mind like they are hornets stinging her very soul. "it should have been me" she thinks, "i should be with him, in his arms..." she sobs into her pillow wordlessly, lest she wake the man next to her.
as she tosses and turns, she feels two hands creeping up her spine, a sudden feeling of unwant and disgust also slide up along with those hands, she doesn't want this today, usually she would have tolerated the ordeal with gritted teeth, but today... today was different. she tried warding off the hands, but it would not be, the hands were just too strong for her. the hands would get what they wanted, as they gruffly held her nipples and squeezed them painfully. a grunt, and her underpants were torn in one tug she grit her teeth, closed her eyes shut and lay still allowing the hands to maul her. teeth sank into her shoulder almost drawing blood, nails scratched her cheeks, and a couple of rough movements later, her bruised vagina felt him retreat.
It just added to her sense of shame and humiliation, and the warm tears stung the scratches at her cheek.
The phone rang. she tried to ignore it, but the hands next to her shoved the phone into her face, so there was no alternative left but to answer it.
the light of the cell phone showed up his number....
Silence
as she picked the call
Silence
as her pain screamed
Silence
as her joy sang
Silence
as he breathed in and out
Silence
as she bit her lip
Silence
as he rubbed his stubble
Silence
and some more
Silence
not just silence.
It was Silence.
The beep of the phone going dead in her hands.
Silence, spoke volumes.
And, now the tears that flowed were of Silence.
It wasnt love
It wasnt love
It wasnt love
It wasnt .....
It ..... love
It was
It
love
Silence
love
Silence
It wasnt love
It wasnt silence
It was Silence
And they both smiled as sleep took over.
For, it was Silence.
It wasnt love
It was Silence.
(tried using the beginning of another post to link to this, strange how fiction and fact meet at times)
Silence was all that there was. She did not want to hear what he wanted to say. He ached to hear what she would never say. So silence is all that there is.
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