A Time Past

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months have past since she had turned to walk away and said she would never look back. She said that with time he would not feel the pain of separation, that he would start to feel better and get over it. Still he thought and wondered. She was wrong and he knew it, deep down inside he believed that she knew it too. He wanted to tell her so many times that it has not died and the pain had not eased any, that with each passing day there was still the pain that memories of a time past bought to him. Would she care to know or even hear is words? A question he often asked himself each time he fought back the impulse to tell her how miserable he actually felt.

Nights seemed the worse for him as he shuffled about the house, empty it seemed with the silence over taking him, deafening in its solitude as a constant reminder of yesterday. Sitting in his bed, darkness envelopes him and outside he hears the sad song and it echoes reverbantly through his mind.

Outside the nightbird sings

Only to remind him he is alone

The pain within stings

Trying to forget she is gone

In the quiet he slips away

Back to her where he belongs

Memories with edges frayed

The night bird sings it song

He is emersed in the past, in thoughts of what was and wonders if she ever slips back to that time, losing herself as he has so many times. Time slipping by like dripping wax slowly hardening. Thoughts racing as the trackless memories surface when one slips back down into that dark pool of yesterday and of what was. He wonders if her tears too have traced down her face, each representing a small piece of a broken heart. He sighs as he listens to the song outside his window and how it reminds him of how lonely he is feeling.

Life being played out, one memory at a time, one tear at a time, lost but will never be forgotten, remembered not with a smile as memories should be. Remembered as he orchestrated it to his demise. The loss of life of a loved one is a closing, death is a finality he can see and deal with, as it has visited him many times in the past, but the loss of love too is a death, one hard to grasp, to see and even harder to accept. Hard to bury something that is still living within him.

Later...

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