It began in friendship and turned into a glowing sun. Strong, bright and eventually explosive. How else could it be described. But to call it summer time rain, urgent and fresh with the musk of mud. Or maybe better, would be to call it, the crater at the bottom of the deepest ocean. Alone and a secret. Locked.
Or maybe the exhilaration of a bird flapping its wings for the first time, soaring and soaring into the sky till it arrives. It was the tight knot of comraderie, and a promise, never to let go.
And yet the knot loosens, the flight faulters, the crater floods and the summer begins again. Scorching heat, a desperate prayer for rain.
And should it come, what form would it take? How would one live past the regret of yesterday's mistake? When the closest experience to that, is a reminder of the first cut. Or perhaps an imagination of what the world would look like, should all of the sun disappear.
So she slugs along, inch by inch, step by step. Was this grief she sought, to help her understand herself. As she loses all identity of the person she used to be, to try and find the one who is lost.
But a promise was made, not to leave him behind, so can he also come? But would he be, the person he is, if he crossed the rabbit hole. And would I love him then, when closer to the hole? Oh these desperate thoughts to lose yourself in, to find one night's good sleep. Oh, but then the morn will bring more of today's worries to bear.
Oh the burden of tomorrow, the loss of relationships, and the absolute inability to create new ones. Sinking deep into the sand, forgotten.. not even for one finger sticking out the ground.
Mumble jumble. Your smile. Your eyes. Your loss will make a gigantic hole, in what I call my life.