Looking out to sea as dark clouds scud inland I know I’m walking a fine line. I’m trying to open myself up to adult human emotions, and at the same time mourn the end of us without being overwhelmed by that exquisite sense of loss.
In a lifetime spent chemically detached from any real emotion I have utterly dulled my ability to feel – to transmute love, happiness, death and loss into a sentiment. I can know we are over, but I cannot feel it.
The wind whips at me as I consider the gaping wound you used to occupy. Your laugh. The feeling of your skin on mine. That smile…all our little intimate moments, when I would touch you just there and you would respond just so…and my breath catches in my throat. I cough and choke.
“Oh God! Where are you..?!” I yell inside my head. I can’t…I can’t breathe! My legs buckle and I fall to my knees, hands clawing at the rough sand…the pain!
I try scream my loss at the world but the wind and pain silence me. I’m desperate for the tears to wash you away in a flood I want to drown in…but they don’t come, those tears. They never do.
Cold rain stings my cheeks, each frozen drop punishing me on the outside for the dearth of emotion I foster on the inside. Each drop scorning as it tears down my face, crying out “You will feel what it is to weep! You will feel the sting of tears, where tears refuse to flow! Can you feel?! DO YOU FEEL?!”
DO YOU FEEL?!
…breathe again… calm…and cold quiet comes over me.
Foolish! This is not a ‘moment’ about you. This is not and will never be about you.
This is about me.
This is a walk in the rain.
That’s all it is.
© Dave Luis 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Image by Patryk Sobczak at unsplash free images
This blog is part of a series of tandem blogs written by Mandy Collins and myself. One topic – two writers and two different takes. We don’t review each other’s work before publishing, and so each piece as a superb surprise for both of us. Read Mandy’s blog here.