The Haunting

July 29, 2014 (3 years ago)
Posted in Blog: English | Categories: Non-Erotic | Tags: , ,

The HauntingSweep me out of this ghost town.

Take me somewhere else without memories.

I wanted to see her on a Sunday. That day never came. There is no use waiting for it. Maybe that is why my heart feels heavier on Sunday mornings, and why I find it more difficult to get out of bed with every passing week.

I waited for her letter this month. And the month before that. Like I would every month. No, not e-mails. Snail mails, as she called them. But they stopped coming eight weeks ago.

"If I love you, would you love me back?" She asked me one time while we were standing under the night sky.

"I will try," I replied.

She looked at me then and sighed. “Don’t try. I don’t want to be taken for granted. Just accept my love and I will be happy.”

“Is this where you tell me you’ve completely fallen in love with me?” It was my turn to ask.

“I just need to know if it’s possible to completely fall in love with someone I don’t even know.” Was her reply.

But we did. Wholeheartedly.

She said she would love me forever. She taught me that people do not necessarily lie. Sometimes they just change their minds.

She was there when I sought for comfort. But I did not how to be there when she asked for the same in return but I tried. Sometimes I can still feel her eyes staring at me in disappointment. I do not want her to look at me like that anymore. So I did the best that I could to make her happy.

So maybe I was her first mistake.

But the way her hand fit around mine made me smile, and I constantly wanted her warmth. But when thoughts clouded my mind, and I asked her for space, she would still be around. Within reach. And I, I would leave her out in the cold.

She was new and exciting. She was a burst of fresh air. We became a constant game of acknowledgement, of ignoring, of stolen glances, and of silent conversations.

In the dark, she held my hand, and I could see her smile behind the shadows.

In the dark, I saw her break, and it became my turn to comfort someone else for a change.

But somehow I never realized that we only had our moments in the dark, and love cannot be hidden.

She died eight weeks ago

If you were to peel apart my skin layer by layer, you won’t find bone and flesh. You will see a decomposing bark beneath it.

How can I stay in a place this small, when there are so many memories left to haunt me?

Every place I go, a memory to haunt me.

The ghosts seemed to have moved on, but I have not.

“I’m sorry.” I wanted to tell her.

“I miss you.” I longed for her to know.

“I love you.” I ached to utter.

But that all means pretty much the same at this point, doesn’t it?
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About the Author :

Joined: April 7, 2014 (4 years old)
Writings: 48

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What is a Writer?

A good writer is also a good storyteller. He/she must ensnare the minds of the readers, trap them in a mind world that would make them believe what is happening is real, make them feel every stroke, feel every kiss, feel that final blow, and feel that explosion.


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