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Monday, October 7, 2013

Loss. Grief. Lesson.

She still remembers the day when he left. The rain poured as if the sky was lamenting their fates too. He had his things packed and ready to be loaded onto the vehicle.

            "I am miserable here. This doesn't feel like home anymore."

he had said, with eyes weary of a lover's agony. She had felt terrible of the very idea of their separation, but she knew how he felt, she was always aware of how he felt. Just as she is now, she was not sure then; if he didn't knew she wouldn't survive a day without him or was he just pretending to be a ruthless bastard. Did he remember what he had said when he was leaving? She did, she had carved those words on her heart and they just never seem to stop torturing her soul.

       "Stay. Stay for another day, just a few hours and a few more minutes." 

How can he forget the way she had begged of him to give her something more to reminisce later, when she suffers in the silence he would leave behind.

     "You have to go you know, it's getting dark out here. Mistress will see us, she'll be upset and angry with me."

he blurted out as he started walking towards the exit.

"Don't go, be someone. What about me?"

She was vexed with her inability to capture a last sketch of her beloved, a last glance of his face, his eyes and his smile, but who was she kidding, she has been as people tell her a reflection of his existence only not on the inside. Those words have molded her feelings towards him. Each day when she recalls those words she hates him even more. She doesn't hate him for doing what he did, she hates him for becoming who he was not. Those words ruined their lives, all she did was ponder on those words while she tried not to fall into the wide gaping hole he left behind. Those words, a bitter memory and an answer to their ambiguities

 "I am a slave; of my mistress, of love."

Edvard Munch Gallery