The tears dropped slowly. One following the other. Like lonely pearls dislodged from their shell, loath to leave their shelter, unwilling to expose their sheen.
She didn't wipe them away. She let them fall with abundance. They served no purpose. They had no destination. She didn't even care if they stained her shirt. She knew that even the stain of her tears will disappear, just like everything else she held dear.
Like a chisel. The words, the hurt, the deprivation. Like a chisel, they chipped away at her surface. Disfiguring her, leaving her flawed and blemished.
Like a rocking chair she held on. Swinging back and forth. Making it seem like a joy when there was none.
"But the sunflower always faced the sun." he'd said, expecting her to understand, exasperated that she hadn't.
She still wondered what he'd meant.
She was still ardently searching for an explanation, secretly hoping that he'd come back and enlighten her.
Because until then, the stem would remain bent.
She didn't wipe them away. She let them fall with abundance. They served no purpose. They had no destination. She didn't even care if they stained her shirt. She knew that even the stain of her tears will disappear, just like everything else she held dear.
Like a chisel. The words, the hurt, the deprivation. Like a chisel, they chipped away at her surface. Disfiguring her, leaving her flawed and blemished.
Like a rocking chair she held on. Swinging back and forth. Making it seem like a joy when there was none.
"But the sunflower always faced the sun." he'd said, expecting her to understand, exasperated that she hadn't.
She still wondered what he'd meant.
She was still ardently searching for an explanation, secretly hoping that he'd come back and enlighten her.
Because until then, the stem would remain bent.
No comments:
Post a Comment