In Progress

Wretched, sitting still does nothing. I wait and wait, time goes faster and the stops. I look out the window and every face that I see has some sort of joy in it. People who are not alone shine strong, laughing and enjoying exactly what life is for.

I sit, like a hawk, a hungry lion eyeing its prey. You left hours ago, my stomach is a bowl with a little acid that has turned to solid, just sitting there, growing staler by the minute. Death, a marble rolling around my mind.

I see two trains arrive every 20 minutes and every 20 minutes I hold my breath and every 20 minutes you never appear. Then sirens roar in-between breath taking and all I can think of is your white body growing whiter and how my hands are bloodstained, how my monstrous soul stood on and destroyed your precious, gentle beautiful self. How my words, so full of the venom of my father, bit into your neck and smothered your breath.
Women and children even look like you from a distance. The street lights make it very difficult to make out anything with clarity. A woman runs down the road, her hair is your hat. A man is the same height as you but he smokes, I know you would never smoke and you don’t even have money to buy cigarettes, even if you wanted to.

Maybe you found my bank card and are on the way to London, maybe on the way to Brazil. I knew that the fragility of love was never destined to be obtained by my slippery, clumsy claws.

I would just like to know that you are safe and not been self-disembowelled by a train or being weighed down with rocks in your pockets. I hope that you are warm.

I have walked through the park twice looking for you and nothing, only an empty sky, I weep, like a widow yearning to see a star. Why doesn’t the traffic stop, why don’t people help me, why does nobody call me?

This is love, this acid in my stomach and if you are dead so is love and perhaps that is the lesson, to live loveless without the pain of losing love. Every love shall end, be it the shattering of an egg or death. Love shall break as will you.

Irrationally I walk, jumping on to trains, withdrawing money, shaking and spiting. My eyes have expanded to that of the moon, veins throbbing. Strangers look at me as a wolf escaped from some demon circus.

I fall to my knees, my heart beating.