The reflection etched on the cracked surface
is fading into the ether of day
Imperfections of a broken dream as I lay
motionless. The words
left unsaid. Screaming into my eyes.
I would take the pieces
shriveled and soiled from the memory of rain
and unfold them, page by page
unto my warm bed to desiccate.
To discover the ink as blank as the words.
My fingers curl at the thought of
it. How a future of solitude can spell
my consciousness explicitly. But I digress.
Because possibility is unfettered. Undefined.
To think otherwise would be defeatist.
Memory would be my salvation, and history
my proof. That giving what I could, offered.
What I could. What I can. What I wanted.
Is all that my capacities can
afford and provide.
Yet, sometimes, is inadequate.
A knowledge that must be experienced,
a comprehension needing to be felt.
To know that I am worth the while,
and that loss is not a constant. But a catalyst.
Image from here.
4 redmarks:
red, everyone's good enough for someone. I'd like to believe that. I also wanna feel like i'm "worth the while" for that person.
@~Carrie~ The challenge is finding that someone. But then, would you be happy with just being 'good enough?'
Haven't been here in a while. As always, wala ka paring kupas, Red.
@Nyl Me neither haha. Thanks, ikaw din eh. :)
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