It runs in your veins creating ice trails through that splintered heart. I didn’t see the crystal shards embedded in your blue blooded, pale hand or the deep-freeze under ninety degrees that never thaws. It lingers in your voice, the cold, detached goodbye, the frosted turned cheek, and the dismissal with your eyes. How I wish we never got involved. I’m tired of the hardened heart, the chill of this empty bed, the heat misplaced and displaced. How simple things roll off your banks and careen down mountainsides laden with snow. Caught in the avalanche and buried in your cold.
It is the voice in my head on continuous loop. The one I cannot turn off, the one I’d like to sometimes drown. The song stuck with half word and sounds unexpressed. The soundtrack of a life in progress with many stops and starts. More comforting are the sounds of nature. The sudden pelting sheet of rain caught in a midsummer thunderstorm or the roar of ocean waves churned from the deep. Of course what would life be without music? Specifically the movie soundtrack that on many occasions evokes a depth of emotion I return to again and again? Complete.
It is that kind of day, cast over, clouds of navy and grey blocking any of the sun’s rays. I suppose I should be glad, nature’s watering day, yet the ground squelches its soggy belch. My sandaled feet drown in puddles (no one said I was smart that way). Even the butterflies and birds refuse to fly. Today should be a holiday, a volunteered Saturday. I’d curl into a book with coffee or tea in hand. Hibernate away the day. Drizzle honey on a warm piece of toast or toast to my honey as we slip into another 100 words.
Plants lay limp under baking sun rays as roots dig deeper in search of moisture filled nutrients. Animals lay still in shaded hiding places and cannot be tempted by the meat sizzling on the grill. Even the birds ignore their feeder for the coolness of higher branches. Only a pair of doves darts forth in play, skimming the water thrown lazily from the sprinkler into the air. The mist carries that familiar ionized rain smell from childish yesteryears of drinking warm water from the hose and running beneath the sprinkler. Meanwhile my bare feet sizzle against the sun heated deck.