fawkes

I sat on the hammock with both my legs on the ground, not trusting it to carry my weight. It looked sturdy enough but I've fallen before. I learn my lessons well. The world was slowly losing light as I watched the birds overhead, busy flying about without any care, and I wondered, what it would feel like to have that kind of limitless freedom. I tried to imagine myself with wings, my feathers all ruffly and out of place from flying too far, too fast, and too carelessly.

My aunt was busy sweeping the yard, collecting leaves, twigs, and weeds. Trees shed. It's not just dogs, you know. I watched her collect everything and piled them into a pit in the backyard. She lit them up and burned them, right under the flowering mango tree. It's an old practice, where I am from, to "smoke" fruit-bearing trees. It keeps the insects from destroying the flowers that will soon produce the sweetest mangoes in the whole world. The kind of mangoes that just melts in your mouth. It's THAT good. Seriously.

I felt the heat as the flames engulfed everything that was thrown into the pit. It was beautiful, how it licked the leaves very slowly, almost passionately. Like whispers in the night between lovers huddled under the covers. It was as soft as butterfly kisses on the neck. But it was deadly. It consumed everything within its grasp and turned it into nothing. The flaming embers beneath it were the only remnants of its existence. The flames danced with a fervor that only intensified the already humid weather. I could feel the heat from where I was watching it peacefully swinging on the hammock.

I watched the fire slowly die after it has consumed everything in the pit. There was nothing left for it to feed from and the flames died out and it took with it the heat and the light. I looked around and I realised that I hadn't noticed the evening has crept upon me unaware.

I found myself thinking about you. Not surprising. Maybe our love was like the fire. It was all consuming, passionate, the flames dancing as we both fueled it. And then you stopped. It was just me feeding it, but I couldn't keep the fire from burning out because I had nothing left to feed it. In my desperation I jumped into the pit thinking that perhaps I could keep it burning, but it did nothing to keep the flames from dying out. And before I knew it, there was nothing left of me but embers of my skin, a remnant of what I used to be. And you were nowhere to be found.

There I was. All burned up. And you? I don't even know where you are right now. I just hope the smoke from our flames end up producing the sweetest fruit we have yet to taste.

this is how i remember you now

Some people are afraid of being left alone. When the distractions disappear, when the room is quiet, when their thoughts are loud and deafening, that's the moment people fear the most. That's when the monsters come alive, when the scars bleed again, when the memories become too tangible. There are days when I hope that I am one of those people who fall apart when they are alone. Unfortunately for me, I almost always feel you when I am around a crowd of people. 

I see you in the faces of the people I see everyday. I see you in the way they chuckle. That snort of half derision and half humour. I see you in the way they look at me, as though it were your eyes staring back at me and not theirs. There are times when I wonder if they can see you behind my own eyes, the echo of a long forgotten shadow, with no shape or form, like the darkness that plagues the eyes that have been exposed to bright lights. 

I see you in all of my bad days amidst the mood swings and the angry snippets of words I throw out into the void. I see you complaining in moments of indecision and uncertainty, taunting me and lecturing me about how there is no such thing as "anything" or "whatever". I see you while I'm walking alone in the mall or whenever I'm crossing streets. I see you holding my hand or touching my back and leading me to the other side of the street only to be slapped by reality when I turn around to look for you and you're not there. I see you whenever I encounter couples holding hands while walking and I remember the way you would hold mine. I don't remember how your hands feel like anymore. The last time I tried to hold your hands, you pulled away and I remember how that hurts. Like knife through my heart, sharp and blunt at the same time.

I see you when I am in the middle of a crowd. I remember how I could easily spot you from so far away. I would know it was you just from the hair at the top of your head, the way you stand and walk. You could lose me in a crowd, but I always knew I could never lose you even when you are surrounded by throngs of strangers.

I see you whenever I turn on my laptop. I remember that your hands have held it once before. And whenever I think about that, I remember all of the things that your hands have held once before and I fall apart. Because you still have my heart. 

I wish I could say I am happy and that time has healed me. There are days when thoughts of you are kept at bay and away from where it can hurt me. But whether I am surrounded by a crowd or alone in my room, you are always there. You are everywhere. You are in everything. And all I want is an escape from the pain. I remember you said that you are happy now and I sincerely want to say that I'm glad you are, but I cannot go on deceiving myself. It hurts. Because the only person who can make me happy again, is perfectly happy without me. 

And so here I am. Surrounded by everything and everybody and feeling empty and lost. I am without hope. I know you are not coming back. So why am I still waiting?