poetry

Life. Gently. {poetry}

Our lines crossed,

doomed to meet I would say,

I don’t believe that much in fate.

What a gaze,

what a smoldering look.

Fireworks set alight,

from words to eyes,

from flaws to souls.

Haven’t we always known each other?

Darling, kiss me passionately.

Oh yes, we have.

Swinging beats and songs

in my head,

so cheerful,

they carry me,

he carries me.

In his sparkling eyes,

I see our respective lines

chasing one another,

flirting, weaving around

and finally gathering in a blazing kiss.

No more fears,

only awaken boldness and audacity,

we’re kings of the hill.

Stop.

How harsh life can be,

pulling us out of our dreams,

yet it looked so tangible,

so real.

Slamming doors.

On that winter day, he left.

His words, forever remembered.

Stated so strongly,

Unwavering.

Even his face, unfazed.

I’m falling down,

down from our cliff’s summit.

God, I’m almost dead,

shattered into a thousand pieces,

pieces of myself everywhere,

divided all around,

strewed and lost

among endless tears.

No, there must be a way,

of course there is way,

a way to have him back.

Oh, dear me,

I’m afraid you had refused

to hear the signs, his signs,

but you knew, intimately knew,

he was a butterfly.

First came anger,

Hey boy, did you think

you would bring me down

that easily?

Of course I have my own resources,

don’t you know that?

I won’t try to spy on you,

to accuse you, to hurt you back.

Don’t drive me down that road,

to your road,

I’m better than that.

You see, I’ve been sleeping,

working and even traveling alone,

all alone,

without you.

Afterwards,

sadness knocked

on the door.

Tireless sorrows,

clinging to me

as a second skin,

energy-sucker.

I’m nothing but anxiety,

jammed knot in my stomach.

You are there

when I wake and when I fall asleep.

An evasive shadow,

chasing me like a

hunted wild animal,

even stalked in my dreams.

Honey, please go,

let me walk alone,

but deep inside

I’m looking for your face

on every street,

was it you?

Holding on to our memories

like a terminally ill person

to a last remedy,

nothing will be tidied

in our flat, nothing moved,

or reorganized.

We never know.

That girl he fell in love with,

I can’t find her anymore,

where is she,

where has she gone?

Lost.

Have I dreamt?

I’m nothing anymore,

no one anymore at all,

only scared,

scared to death.

Cold nights,

days and weeks,

lonely days,

empty nights,

no recovery.

Oh, dear me, my little doll,

what about acceptance?

How many hours have we

spent savoring our sadness,

trotting out our sorrows,

repeated thoughts played in loop.

Was it worth it?

Look, all around you

the world keeps going.

They all go out,

smile, dance and laugh.

Sun, rain, night.

They make it even harder,

spiking as a needle,

freezing pain.

Unshared.

Won’t there be any echo?

No, nobody hears

your suffering.

It’s spring.

Trees are getting new leaves

Even your favourite iris

are blooming.

No, they haven’t grasped it.

Haven’t heard your call,

your call for life around to stop,

to wait a little more,

for you to be back.

Dear me,

they won’t come and rescue you.

You need to get through this alone,

you alone.

Oh no, don’t cry,

stop crying,

breathe,

gently.

Little doll,

what about closing the chapter?

Anyway, look, it’s all scrawled,

filled out,

the page of your story with him.

All your evenings, nights,

they all have been repeated,

even relived in dreams

The page is all covered with tears.

No more free space to write,

no more things to say.

We have no choice, you see.

Anyway, we don’t have time,

no more hours,

minutes are more precious.

Trying to talk to him,

to understand,

yes, you’ve tried,

tried enough.

Your efforts,

like messages in a bottle,

lost energies.

Attempts to put a word,

a rationality on things

all failed,

declared as missing.

Come on, little doll,

it’s in your hands

Come and walk with me.

Let’s go back to life,

back to life again.

Readjusting.

People, friends,

smiles, laughs, birds.

Life. Gently.

Yes, it was a long adventure,

the return of the

solitary castaway.

Of course, less and less though,

it still hurts, I still miss him.

There is no rush my little doll,

take your time,

please take your time.

Breathe.

Breathe again.

Smell the flowers.

Courage is the only thing you need.

Time and battles and victories

It’s becoming past.

He is becoming past,

nothing more than the previous point of the line.

No, let’s not erase your memories,

press Delete,

throw them away to the sea.

They are yours too,

You too.

Let’s keep the positive,

the enthusiastic moments.

He is not evil,

just a man,

entitled to go,

to leave.

No, let’s not throw

everything away,

gifts, pictures,

witnesses of your love.

They’re just things,

emotions, reflections,

and witnesses don’t die

when the crime is ending.

Oh, my little doll!

Here you’ve climbed at last, all alone.

What an amazing view

we now have from the top

of that mountain.

How unexpected.

You’re happy again,

existing again, released.

It’s so quiet here,

so relaxing,

a bubble bath.

Can you feel now,

at last,

the scent of your dear lavender?

Can you feel now,

the enveloping warmth

from your cherished sun?

The line is waiting.

Now ready to be drawn

and filled with another story.

Yes, that’s true, darling,

our lines met, overlapped.

But they now follow

their own roads,

their own dreams.

Surely they’ll twirl around again,

cheerful whirls.

Somewhere else,

with someone else, as butterflies

Aren’t we both butterflies?

Let’s face it, wasn’t it exactly,

precisely, that freedom

I loved in you?

A man with no tie.

I’m ready.

Look, it’s as old as the hills…

Let our lines separate,

gently, quietly,

as inexorably as they met.

 *****

SophieGregoireSophie Gregoire is a thinker. You may often find her with a new idea or a new concept to explain, holding a notebook and pencil. Also found reading and writing, she is more than anything an independent soul. She enjoys traveling and getting lost in new places, namely in Asia. She says it helps understanding our worlds, its people and the humankind. She loves writing to transform her endless thoughts into some kind of reality, and to keep the little piece of sanity she still has. She savors coffee, encounters, Yoga and meditation, and cats… while her own cat is her greatest muse!

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