(NOTE: this is a work of fiction)
There’s a monster laid within my head who’s
ripping springs and chewing strings,
unravelling cords that bind my broken heart within.
Such a sneaky set of teeth it must possess!
to have the superpower
to so simply tear apart my strands of
and gnaw away the knots of fear
that’s fastened tight around my throat.
You’re not an ‘it’, I realise, but a paradox
of beauty in disaster; a breath in breathlessness –
unusual piece of messy art whose every bitten laugh is
drawn upon my messy mind,
eating up my every thought – except the one that wonders why
so eagerly you swallow all my bitter tears,
embrace my pain with yours; why you
reach beyond my chest and into tangled mess,
viewing all the cracks and crevices with a gentleness that
every other eye neglects?
Tell me why you lay so close when I am all but warm –
other creatures run away, why do you choose to stay?
But you bare your teeth at questions from my doubtful lips, and
enclose your arms about my frosty chest, till I’m melting
little by little, till I’m bare and warm and
ocean wide – unbound by ropes, and sailing into
vastness, away from narrow visions washed ashore.
Entranced I am by flaws that make you not monstrous but
daringly human – daring to love, daring to be loved.
(c) 2015 Katho28
I was just reading through my previous blog, and I found this flash fiction piece I wrote a while back which I want to share with you guys. Hope you enjoy 🙂
WARNING: Contains moderate coarse language.
“Well, so… h-how have you been?”
The woman sitting opposite to Jim almost exploded. “You haven’t even bothered to give me a call in seven years, and the first thing you ask me is how have I been?”
Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair. People sitting around them in the cafe turned their heads at the outburst, then seemed to lose interest and went back to their own conversations.
“I-” Jim faltered.
“Yes?” Her voice was venomously low.
He licked his lips nervously. How on earth was he going to explain himself?
“Jim. You haven’t talked to me in seven years. Seven fricken’ years. Why start now?”
“I…” Jim took a deep breath. “I lost courage. I fuckin’ lost courage. And then I was… sleeping around…” There was a slight quiver in his voice but he willed himself to continue. “And I realised that there was no one like you… there would never be someone like you.”
The woman’s crystal blue eyes seemed to soften just for a second before they reverted back to the cold glare.
“Fuck, Anna.” Tears were building up just behind his eyes. Shit, he was going to cry. “I fuckin’ missed you.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and whispered, “My name is not Anna.”
Jim’s eyes widened.
The woman put on her sunglasses and stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the ground. “You missed your chance Jim.” She pressed a five-dollar bill onto the table, adjusted her black handbag and marched away.
Jim stared at the spot where the woman had sat only a few seconds ago. He didn’t blink.
He barely registered the soft ding of the door. The clicking of high-heels faded into nothing.
Fuck. He didn’t even know her name anymore.
The things some people say to you – most of the time, they don’t mean it at all; sometimes, they actually mean well… and that should make their words harmless, right?
Yet you wonder, if their words are so harmless, then why do they still hurt as much as they do? And why are you just standing there, taking every hit as it comes? Why are you letting every word slam you right across your chest, right across your heart?
Why aren’t you running? Why aren’t you dodging?
Deep down, you know why.
Deep down, you know that if you hold your ground – if you can just show those words that they can’t break your strength even though they’re smashing your heart to splinters – then it proves that you’re not weak. It proves that you’re not broken – not now, not ever. It proves that you’re not afraid to fall down. It proves that even if you do fall down, even if you are battered and bruised, you aren’t defeated, because you will always have the strength to stand right back up again.
It’s not valour that stops you from running away – it’s pride. It’s that piece of dignity you hold onto ever so tightly. It’s fear of losing that dignity.
And how ironic, you think, that you’re holding your ground out of fear. Maybe fear and courage are not so different after all.