Once have I  unlocked my  private prison cell.  I remember this overly familiar dark,smoky thin air behind. Her  forceful weight around my shoulders yet a light clammy hands on the skin on my arms. "Let me go." I said.  I took my decisive stride and and closed my eyes but here I saw her. Her face was down on the floor, her dry black hair, tousled and drenched. She bitterly wept. She bitterly wept.

There were walls around, no... I thought they were doors I was sure. Doors that could lead to other doors I presumed.  I swallowed in my fears  as  it choked me down my throat. However unreal and frightful to go, my spirit moved, stubbornly unrelenting. With every step, the clamorous cries caught me from behind like an echo to each tiny  footstep in the deep muted halls. With every step, a distance, where the trailing sound chased me until each tumultuous weeping turned into a languished screaming. It was still there but somehow as though the last few breaths between few words the dying struggles before a final gasp.

Then it was dead still.
I gave a halt and just stood there. It wasn't much a walk, was it? But I need to walk some more only that I couldn't tell which way right in the middle.  There's a wall although I could see the farthest end...almost...


There's a wall.  I am stuck on this wall, after all the other walls I thought were doors. I couldn't hear anything anymore. She wouldn't  cry now nor say the words but  her silence is a language itself.   So  hauntingly disturbing but when I turned to look behind, there were smiles on her tear-streaked face.
My  inmate was my own shadow.
There I  was. I lost at my own diffidence reminding me of my other losses.
How do I leave my shadow ?

Don't look at me now nor carelessly utter a word for I might now be able recognize any call beyond this wall and beyond those walls. If you're waiting somewhere upon one of those doors, have you looked behind you?  Should you listen to any sound wave, I wish you could shut it off  and smother its hallow cries to rest...

or

just learn to reconcile with your shadow 
or die inside the all-black maze.

Breathe...like silver waterfall in my hands, I wish to keep it flowing as perpetual grace from heaven but it spills even through most tightly enfolded fingers. Such beauty gracefully glides down to a bitter cold soil. On bitter cold soil... mere drops that dampens the dry like a tear to a pillow.

These drops... drops to drops that slowly become little puddles,little puddles that hold  little water from each rain. Little puddles from little rain...  mirrors of  some glaring eyes beneath,why would you look at your own eyes this way? Why? You can't haunt me for much.  My eyes must have seven suns peering  unto your water and mist like golden strands sunken and afloat on your bay.

You've said that name again. You've called me by that name again. What is this name you've called me? What's the face and who is this?  Is it the shape of the some glass statue that I should have been? Is it the voice of the the dead angel who to life I can't restore?  Is it the face of a rose I threw away behind me? Or the lips of the veiled goddess I never was? or the eyes of  a red flame I have ceased to be? Is it the the touch of one ecstatic wilderness I've never been in my poor bosom. Is it the white dress I never cared to put on for the wedding? ...the ring on some  other prettier finger...?

I don't know who the name is but now I wish I were the name you speak. 

Don't look look at me in me this way nor try to find the ease of averting your gaze for a moment.  So you wanna kill me? Go ahead and stab me while our faces meet eye to eye. So you wanna shoot me dead? Shoot me with a bullet head-on, but only on point blank , you must fire that gun. Just this and go leave me to hide my own grand discomfiture.

You hate the pride of sincere defiance I bear to rescue an ounce of my well-kept small blood of royalty despite my evident ignoble birth. The wounded and disabled, have her own way of rescue and survival. My inveterate lies mastering the art of self-giving power of self-regeneration will heal me.  No, not mastery...it's bravery .  Do I look worn-out  Do I sound as hallow as deathbed and the man with scythe standing by? Hushh...don't be too scared. I'll not die.  

As far as I give you the right to torment me, can't you see that I can live?
and when I take that right away...
I guess I better still give myself the right to live.

Somewhere in between that separates us stands the shadow and the hole, the  smoke and the ditch.   It might have been there long before but I never saw it.  Perhaps I was too brave and happy to see it. 

I've been walking just as barefoot but if my feet never hurt before, as much as now, must I keep treading on path of broken glasses?  How obscurity loves to pull the obscured so both can meld into a quiet delusion and save the tormented flesh.  

I have been staring across, to the farthest visible and invisible to try and find that meeting point. But having found none, nothingness devours my shadow leaving me, the irresolute crap of a judge. 

Small worlds, small hearts, there is one for me and the other for you.   Fools be damned for fool's evil snarl, creating a penetratingly sharp pain. Can you imagine the darts and arrows  that hang around where that space is?  I may move closer but they hit me all the time . Haven't you felt it? Do you know how it fees  like watching a part of your heart at the opposite edge of the world?  

I used to think we'll take care of a piece of each other's hearts and carry through.  How damned to see us hold i and and hurt it so but...
it's been profusely bleeding so. 

I don't know so much but I know this...
I made my promise, yet ...
Love is like those gracefully soaring-winged- creatures. 

Sometimes...

Don't call the birds back home,nor try looking for them coz they need to fly away. You may sit around or wait for them patiently and hope they come back sooner or you can go take a walk yourself if it makes you too tired waiting around. ♥

I said my heart is painful again because it is.  You fear it?
I say it has been raining and it doesn't seem to stop coz it still hasn't.  You can't hear it?
Some of the days, I am not as frightened nor hurt. The calloused, the braver I'd say.
I could  be the one you see too frail as glass but can I not the one inside this heart, just iron-clad, impervious to anything life deems fatal as death. No, I won't be over too soon.  Not that soon.

Rain...falling like silver strands of water from angels

Remember how the little paper boats sail along  the puddles? How beautiful the days with friends when we were small and the world was a wide shower play room where you could chase each other giggling under the big and tiny drops graciously flowing down the hair rushing down like millions of pinching tingles of ecstatic pain over the face  and hands to our feet.  How we used to scream harder believing that each scream would make heavier downpour and how just merely standing head up,eyes closed,hands spread open, drenched per second  was an incomparable feeling of  FREEDOM and HAPPINESS. 

Today just feels cold,gloomy and quiet...the senses is so equidistant as of love to pain and  memories to present.

I still feel you in my skin, the way you held my hand that day, that certain tight grasp, gradually slipping away.  I still see you in my mind, the way you stood  by the glass door,  faintly smiling, slowly disappearing. That day I still stood by glass door, resting ...my head gently leaning and watching my eyes looking at my own eyes let go of all the mist they held for a while. Then, my fingers touching my own fingers to pat the cheeks dry. 

I'll see you again, on a similar spot,on a happier scene one day.
But I'll miss you so much I said.
This is how I will miss you everyday. 
Where are you?
Do you still feel the same? 

             Before I can put you on the stand to be accused and to be judged, I indict MYSELF. 
           
         
            First, get down and I'll stand there myself for I deserve such trial. I will be happy to to face it before you for it wasn't you but I who
put you on that seat. I have been long deprived of my own on self-incriminating evidence, for you have played a pathetic role of a saintly perpetual forgiveness for quite some time. I hate breaking through such impossibly, powerful good -in-you-facade but then if my unbridled evilness breaks through it only to free you, I am deeply sorry. 

         
              I grieve, not because you have slowly driven me away from home. I grieve, not because you still have me wear this crown while slowly removing my scepter. I grieve not because your eyes are still fixed with mine while your heart is slowly beating away. I grieve not because you wish to banish me while I stubbornly remain.


             I grieve because it was I who left home one day. I grieve because it was I, who disgraced this throne. I grieve because it was I who didn't look at you that day and failed your heart that way.  I grieve because I wish to dissolve in a vapor than foolishly stay. 

              How will you keep me when I stabbed you armless, when I killed you defenseless?
              How can  I hurt you when you restored my life?
              How did  I hurt you?
              How can you know? How can you believe
           
                 I love you 
                 It was always you...is always you...just you 
                 true but
                 now I am nothing but
     
              Convicted and clothed in self-disgust
             
           
           

    There are only two points in life where I find myself obsessively writing. Either I'm in the trail of happiest or the slope of loneliest. I wouldn't have to say which.  It's been like ages, I must have grown a bit of gray hairs on my once black strands along my forehead since I got married. (luckily enough, your eyebrows don't get those color change)  I've heard I've become prettier. I've heard I've become younger. At times, just  little less pretty or a bit chubbier.  I was told I have good husband I married for money. I was told I have a terrible husband,and what we have isn't marriage. Some people have been wanting  me to pursue with patience, some just can't wait till I give up and quit. Should I do that, some will be devilishly happy, and some just regretfully unhappy.



     How easy for people to see you from outside, just transparently visible, easier for open scrutiny as though your heart is made of glass. But, why would anyone be someone we just know by their mere sight and touch of  their glassed-in boxes? If you see me, choose, use and speak your words  sparingly and quietly. I am not a pawn for your own battle of  self-esteem and not the judgment inside your own prejudice. 



     As for me, years of bliss and years of expectant waiting, I have been enclosing  myself to the commitment for the one person I chose to spend a lifetime or more with. I've been running straight, then walking at a speed down to a slow. I've been lightly leaping and have been slightly tripping.   Pleasant or unpleasant, both sinfully good and innocently bad, I live the journey of each moment. There are no rooms such as cages and crates  Have you ever thought that if we were birds, the best thing would be to fly...and to fly as farthest we can? Nothing feels too great than laughing ...and laughing the loudest you can,  or crying... and crying the hardest you can.