-
-
I held the hand that is
planning to let you go.
It was dry and rough
unlike the other that still
remembers your love of long ago.
I felt its frustration about you,
of the way you always made
sure that tomorrow will not
come for the both of you.
I heard its silent cry of
goodbye and I grew sad.
On the other hand,
it was still hanging on,
reminiscing celebrations
and victories.
The happy times linger
like it doesn't want to live.
I heard all the secret whispers
at night and all promises made.
Both hands wept.
A catharsis of the highest order.
A pill so that no one goes insane.
I looked at the mirror and
saw rivers of tears.
I looked down and
saw my hands clasped together,
the other looking out
for the other.
A symmetry of giving up
and holding on.
The riddle of love.
-
-
*Picture from 4.bp.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment