Blind

It’s my tradition to retreat.
No matter what.

No matter what’s been said.
No matter what was done.
Retreat.

I play mind games
With myself.

Imagining scenarios
From movies
That I wish were real.
That I wish would happen to me.

That someone would overhear
Me crying.

That I would be the sick child
Everyone pays attention to.

That suddenly I’m at the edge of death.
And I finally realize what it means to live.

Walking in a daze,
And bumping into my saviour.

I perform these rituals
All over the sacred earth.

I perform them alone.

In between curtains
And bed sheets
On the rooftop

I try not to jump.

I can’t find my way through them

But I keep seeing a shadow.

He’s always too far from me

But I see him.

He’s there.

 

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/06/prompt-time-after-time/

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