Sunday, July 20, 2008
stark naked
“Some people never say the words 'I love you'. It's not their style to be so bold. Some people never say those words: 'I love you' But, like a child, they're longing to be told.” - Paul Simon
love. it is bare and complicated, certain yet unreliable; delightful but calamitous, nonetheless congenial. which bears more weight, the good, the bad, the happy or the sad? a bit of everything, i hear you say. that's not right i think.
"Why won't you do this, or that?" they ask persistently, scattered voices reverberating off the gray concrete walls. I shake my head with a tired look and slid down further till I have got my head under those white fluffy cushions. I found a stale popcorn sitting quietly between the cracks of the couch. You want to be this popcorn? The inane thought dances wildly on the dimly lit stage of my distrait mind. i shut my eyes and wished very hard for a transformation to happen immediately.
"Are you listening at all, Missus?" Thomas stares at me over his golden eyepiece that sits perfectly on the bridge of his nose, raising one brow taller than the other on the aged wrinkled face. I stood up abruptly with my eyes still squeezed shut with hope. A giddy wave hit me and I jumped back on the couch immersing my body into the cushions without any trace of lady manners. I sigh.
"No, no I'm not, Thomas."
"Well why not? This is important. Sir Joe is at the door waiting to see y-"
"Because I am tired! Damn, what does a woman got to do to get some peace around here?"
Thomas's eyes slants into tiny disapproving slits, his usually pale cheeks flushed with anger or embarrassment I know not which. Not that I really cared. I do not care at all. I want to be like that popcorn, hidden safely away from the world without having to worry about being eaten. Not when it is just staleness layered in dust and grub, at least. It is not very appetizing.
"He doesn't love me and you know that Thomas. You know that better than I do."
4 coffee beans
