Cataclysmic.

Sunday, 1 January 2017

2010

In times of despair, 
The feelings she wished to have shared-
With the one that understood, as authentically as he ever could;
It was all she ever wanted.
And she'd be so incandescent, at the brilliant description of lonely nights
Given by people who loathed it, but who are too afraid to admit.
But this lonesome woman still cries, no matter how bright the moon shines.
No matter how satisfying being alone felt,
The love the other woman received from their loved "one", 
Repressed all love she has ever received from her loved ones.
Now there isn't a dearth of love in her life, and neither of importance.
But still, why does she feel unloved? And unwanted?
And why is that she stands alone, not one name to call her own.
Not one love to be proud of, not one love to boast. 
And how has this managed to relegate her to her worst? 
She is certainly Cinderella in reverse, but then she hasn't ever been mistreated. 
Surely, these twisted set of questions intermittently seduce her into its chimera.
In them she finds - a hand to hold, eyes to search.
She finds a voice, a name - and the universe of unreality which they have to offer. 
She obtains nothing more and nothing less; and nothing as satisfying as the reality. 
So, frustratingly and curiously, at the far end of the rainbow, she flounders with the questions,
That only he could answer. 
But before the end, she meets him in the middle.
He says - You're the best I've ever known, you've been brought to me so that I can call you my own.
She cries.
But at the end, he isn't there, so she slumps to the floor,
And persists to cry. 


 
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