Feelings

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 The pen glided effortlessly over the paper that she was eventually going to fold, then send with mocking bird to deliver the jeer of the stab wounds that protruded from her heart, so he would know exactly how he made her feel. How can you go from loving someone to despising the very breath he takes? "That's not love", she thought.

And so she wrote. "You were searching for purpose and focus and I became your canvas, yet the paint you splattered across my heart has left a stain that no amount of oil and brush can remove. You needed a beacon and a safety net and I illuminated your path and absorbed all your fears. You consumed me. The more you found yourself, the more I wandered and the deeper I was lost. I was your muse, the perfect joke. Just as a vulture, you tracked and lurked, you saw the vulnerability of me as prey and then you swooped down and clawed, latched, suckled, satisfied then you discarded."

The pen stopped and she wondered if he was even worth those words. He moved on without her, absolutely no closure and no hope for what she thought would last forever.  And then she continued to write, "You extinguished any desire for me love wholeheartedly again because a thief like you robs the mind, the body and the soul. How can I ever recover from the door slammed in my face when you offered me a portal that lead to gold and diamonds. What a fool to believe,  that's me."

Torn and depleted was the framework of her spirit. Her cup ran empty, dry and deserted. She loved a man who loved himself and his ego. Now she watches him pass by almost everyday and each time he stares, she feels so pierced and her spirit just oozes with despair. 

The pen stopped and she prayed. Prayed so that her heart can heal and her mind won't trace his scent and her heart would stop wishing, for this detrimental,  destructive love disguised as hope and a future. For what is lost is gone and what is gone was just never met to be. She loves him, yes, but she knows that she loves herself even more. 

Now here comes the morning bird, eager for its flight. It pauses. Tilts its head and stares as if to ask her if she is ready. She stands courageous and says one last prayer for the bird's safe voyage. The time was now. Away it swoops into the wind to carry tales of emotions, sad notes, and wisps of regret.   

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