There's something poetic about warmth escaping a lifeless body, even with the sun being scorching hot. There's also something poetic about drowning in the rain. When I find out what that is, I'll let you know.
Everything seemed to be going wrong that day. The way my hair would not stay in place, the way none of my outfits seemed to fit, and the way Curtis kissed me like I was old and brittle.
I'm not the one to hold grudges, but Curtis was known for kissing me like we were the last two people on earth. His lips told mine, that he had a sole mission to survive and to reproduce. You could call it a "Soul Revival". Since he was my sole revival. My energy, my idol. Now he just seemed confident in being distant and alone. He kept seeking for another world, when the only world he used to want, was me.
After a series of events, I ended up at a remote meadow, waiting for him to appear. As the hot sun was disappearing into dark clouds, I could hear a woman's laugh in the distance. They appeared out of the woods, hand in hand, with his playful gaze meeting hers. I could feel his love for her, since he looked happier than ever. His love for a mistress was concealed into letters and in his spontaneous "after hours" work, which I knew was code for: their secret meetings.
It hurt. Of course it did. Seeing them so happy together, without me. We were once as happy as he was with her. I guess I just never saw the signs of us ending. I'd always thought that I'd mean more to him than a stupid love affair. I'd always thought he would tell me when things went wrong, that he'd respect me enough to let me go. But he didn't. He was desperately holding on to his past, which was me, while making sure he had a future with her. Although he could have just moved on from me, I began to think that he saw us as "convenient" or a "force of habit". Since old habits die hard, I was determined she would, too.
So I followed them, as they made their way deeper into the meadow. I patiently waited for him to leave her alone, since all I needed was just a moment, like a lion waiting to pounce. And after seeing him devour a picnic meal and wash it off with huge gulps of wine, he fled for the nearest tree to relieve himself.
That was all I needed; a moment to attack on the prey. I pounced on her, like a lion would a gazelle. She winced in pain, but made no sound, since I had gone for the neck. As I began to lose my grip, due to sweaty palms, my belt loosened and she let out a scream: The last noise she made on earth. Almost as if she knew he would not make it in time to save her, but she had to reassure herself that she was still alive.
As I gazed into the lifeless eyes of my gazelle, I couldn't help but notice all the things that had attracted my man: Her beautiful hazel eyes, her supple breasts and delicate bone structure; All things a lion would want out of a gazelle. As he was running to her, I was waiting behind the trees. Nothing made me happier than to see my pain in his face. The pain he had caused me after all this time.
There were no words or sound at that moment, all I could hear were raindrops slowly descending from the dark clouds. It was as if I was watching a silent movie. I felt like a passenger of a story that moved on without me. Pain read all over his face and clouds sheltered a life that once were. I was hanging on to a past that once were.
He was drowning in tears and she was drowning in the rain. The sun was hot, but the clouds were dark. He was sad and I was not.
There's something poetic about warmth escaping a lifeless body, even with the sun being scorching hot. There's also something poetic about drowning in the rain. I think I've found out what that is, but maybe some day I'll let you know.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWpoptgNnws
-I'm back... XO "thegirlwithcurls-
