Raindrops. They remind me of your tiny footsteps. How you splashed and plopped and then tiptoed back into the house. Trying not to bring the mud and rain inside with you. Your muddy shoes still sit by the front door. I know I should wash them or get rid of them, but I can’t. They’re all that’s left.
Sometimes I wonder if you remember the rain dances we use to have. Twirling, with your head turned upwards. Eyes closed. Rain falling upon your little face. We’d dance for hours if you didn’t start to shiver from the cold.
Sitting here, alone, by the fire I can feel you wiggling in the blanket. Trying to rub the cold from your bones. I wonder if you still wiggle out the cold or do you no longer dance in the rain?
“Fuck! Get a grip on yourself! It was for the best.” Not that I listen to myself. But still, I need to move forward.
But it’s hard.
I know I did the right thing. Letting you go. I was toxic. Poison. I would have consumed your brilliant light. You needed to be free—to fly. I was a cage trapping you from within.
I wish you could know my harshness in pushing you away was from my love for you and not from hatred, but I fear showing any type of love would bring you back.
Back into my cage and I can’t bear to see you caged. I would rather watch you fly from afar than brush your soft cheeks that sleep quietly upon my chest.
All that is left are my memories. They haunt and tease me about all I could have had if I weren’t so malignant. If my mind was normal. If I didn’t have a faulty brain.
Unfortunately, there’s no return line for faulty brains. Can you imagine if there were? I can think of quite a few people who should be first in line.
Love is a very simple thing when it’s real love. It doesn’t tangle or consume. But it is painful. Because real love requires sacrifice. Sacrificing that which you love so your love can have more is the hardest and loneliest thing one can do because no one but you is able to see it.
In the eyes that spy beside you, they see a selfish monster. Vulgar and savage. Their eyes are blind to the gentle spider’s web woven intricately within. They’ll never know and neither will your love.
Inspired by prompt at Write on Edge for Write at the Merge week 5