I ask you if you’re are happy. Ask you but afraid of the answer. Ask you but scared your reply will be the nail in the coffin of hope. Asked knowing that your reply could mean that there will be no resurrection of the salvation of your love.
You answer my question. ‘I am content’
I ask you again; ‘Are you happy?’ You pause. Let moments pass. Look into me. Again you reply
You turn and walk away. Leave me standing still; alone in a crowed place. The noise of music, conversation, the bubbling of laughter fades into silence as you’re words echo in my head.
‘I am content’.
Thoughts take me back to our past conversations. Back to 2am dialogue we had as we lay naked in bed discussing love and life. Back to a time when the world was asleep and still but our minds sparked bright lights in our eyes. Back to how our finger tips touched, engaged in their own dialogue of silent words. We become naked as we take off the layers of old relationships, the clothing of hurt, the garments of regret, the attire of painful lessons and silent tears.
Then I am ripped away from this bliss. Slapped with the moment you found out the truth. I did not hear you’re words; I see their colours; scarlet red, deep blue, pitch black. They bubble up in your lungs, clamber up your wind pipe, fill your mouth and cause it to swell as they burst from your mouth. They swirl around in the air like storm clouds; fills it with colourful sound, splash against the walls, splatter on them and leave stains. They are a thunderstorms. Your words are lightning lashes that strike, surge, crackle and cause electrical volts of hurt. Despair, anguish, I hear fury. I see the colour of your emotions in your eyes…