A soft gentle mist has grayed my day, soaking through the protective sheath of musical distractions which keep my emotional turmoil hidden beneath layer upon layer of pretense that everything will return to normal and I will be myself again.

I have chosen, this time, to feel the pain instead of delaying the inevitable with numbing substances altering my perspective. This path is better, I try to convince myself.

Why then, when I close my eyes, like looking at the sun too long, is your face the only thing I see, your voice, which is deafening above the silence this moment must contain, the only sound I hear? And yet, I haven’t heard that sound, I haven’t felt your embrace or inhaled your perfume for far too long now.

I am not convinced.

What if I forget? What if this time and distance erases you? Would I finally be free of the only love I have ever craved, the only soul I have ever loved? Would our history be in vein?

“Failure is not an option,” has given way to a sad resolve that fate may have other ideas. I am too tired to fight you this time – even if fighting you means saving us. I feel the rain upon my face, masking the tear that escapes as I let my guard down, forgetting for a moment that I am all cried out.

© Andrea D. Gonzales 2007