Summer Tune For A Rainy Day

The Dirge of The Prisoner:
(an ode II)
I try to look away. She sits there caressing her hair, playing with her locks, gently blowing them away from her angelic face as they trickle back like dark clouds embracing the skies. She may just have become my weakness, my addiction, my suffering. She wears black mostly; it complements her lovely blue eyes, her dark drapes of hair that hide them as she smiles. In my eternal loss for words, I feel helpless and brood like a lonely child looking for a friend to play with, someone I can count on. I could probably get lost in this forest of mystery, my fingers tasting the softness of her locks, my eyes drinking from her beauty, seeking rejuvenation from ages of heartache. I could probably fall asleep in her arms, her soft breath keeping me warm, her gentle hands holding me close.

Her smile, it has the feel of a soft wisp of perfume, the gentleness of a baby's giggle, the colors of two rainbows. I could just sit there and look at her as my scars inflicted from the agony of emptiness, heal painfully. Yet they resurface, each day, time and again reminding me of how empty this fake world that I have chosen to dwell in, is. She has strum a rare chord in my heart, it makes me celebrate her beauty at times, and sometimes I feel shamefully helpless. I guess it's my weakness that I hold her in such awe as she disregards my pain, my anguish. As she sits there and smiles, little does she know what it does to me.

To her I don't exist; I am but a drift of dust. Yet as I dance to the tunes of this gentle breeze, I feel a strong sense of melancholy flooding my veins and it helps me fade away into this darkness. I crawl back and I look at her with my dreary, tired eyes and it is a short lived smile that I share with that moment. I havent dreamt in long, please don't haunt me this way. Fighting this feeling seems impossible as I rise each morning with the thought of vanquishing my demons. As dusk sets in, my heart is as heavy and dark as it is lonely. Tell me, how can you sit there and take on each moment as I burn here in absolute anguish, in all consuming misery? There is no hope for me.

(imagesource: lomat.org)