‘Take care of yourself’ he whispered before turning and walking away, though I caught the shadow of a tear resting in the corner of his eye
The burning tingle on my lip where his thumb had rested, a final soft stroke of mercy
I gazed upon his retreating back, his slow stride, hands pushed deep within his jean pockets
My chest urging me, ‘run after him, girl!’ as my feet remained cemented to the ground
I still feel the heat of his touch tearing at my flesh while my toes wriggle beneath the sand
I still feel the fire in his eyes as my hands trace soapy trails across my skin
I still feel his burning passion in the lingering grey hours of the night
I hear his smile upon waking, his tender compassion at midday, his deep love in the evening
Take care of myself? Ha!
What if I don’t want to take care of myself? What if I’ve failed to do so up to now? What if I need you?
I’ve covered every mirror in the house, I can scarce glance at myself
Who is she? She’s no one, no one at all without him
He, who seared her soul with his own, sparks of passionate desire and comforting embrace
She became a shell the moment he turned his back, small pieces shriveling, shrinking, becoming dust without the dew of his love resting upon her
I don’t recognize her in those shrouded mirrors, though there is some familiarity found within those blue pools, echos of memories
Walking the hall late at night, sighs as shouts, whimpers and fierce tears
My heart continues its call out to him, a cry for forgiveness and his compassionate return
A lifting of me into his strong arms and carrying me far from our broken pasts and forward into our shining future
©️tara caribou – 2018
and also: I love you.
... from a silent space
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