We take a walk tonight in this new park in the city, the newly manicured lawn and the Christmas lights hanging from the tree branches the perfect backdrop to our story—a common story, a cliché actually, of unexpressed emotions and an understanding unspoken of, the December breeze gently blowing a reluctant witness to the plot unfolding between us.
I often wondered as a child why there are fireworks in the sky when couples kiss in a movie as if love is enough to banish the darkness of the night. If I kiss you tonight, could we brighten the heavens, too?
You refuse to hold my hand. Your eyes speak the words your lips refuse to say. You try to hide the suffering and a kiss won’t be enough to banish it. You have loved and failed, loved and failed, and scars remain.
So, here we are, standing at the bus station, waiting. I try to hold your hand, to touch you to ease your pain. Yet, you refuse again. I kiss you on the lips, your scars remain. A kiss won’t be enough to banish them.
My bus arrives. Should I stay or should I go? I turn to you and smile, and you say goodbye.
No comments:
Post a Comment