She misses the taste of wanting him...

top This Train, I Want To Get Off, and Go Home Again...

art I

My grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a throned rose. I think he meant, you must evaluate what your willing to sacrifice before you can ever taste the sweetness. Or maybe he meant, that it is certainly inevitable to be hurt. Or maybe he meant, that life is but another failed analogy to pain and love.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.I fear now as the tears stream down my blushed cheeks that I have joined them.She reaches past her pillow and into the drawer. Right below is a a book of
healing. But, tucked quietly beneath it she grabs the pad of paper. It is hotel paper. It is different than most. Hotel paper is honest. There is something in the safety and security of knowing that the thoughts and emotions may never leave that very room. I can inscribe it with words, numbers, lyrics, lines, pictures or truth. I can take it with me, or leave it behind. I can lie. I can bury myself beneath the pages of words I scribble. After all of theses options I decide to write, "I can't."

I can't let go of the things that hold me prisoner in my own cage of refuge. It's really over, he's really gone. Years have come and gone but now I cry.
'I'm on a mission now to find another you', I wrote pressing my whole palm against the lines. I miss him. He is my grandfather. But, only now do I dare admit how much I crave having another being like him. When I was younger I would whisper 'secrets' to him every chance I got.He told me things you would never imagine. I told him stories like you wouldn't believe.They weren't real secrets but, they were trust. I was his trust and he was mine. And, now he's gone. And tonight, I learned I can't my trust myself, so who do I turn to?

I sat alone, letting the ink flow freely releasing me from myself. And after about 30 mins of me being honest (with myself) on this dented hotel paper I smiled. I saw the smeared words
I can't at the beginning of my entry and decided to edit my life. I led the pen upward and wrote 'alone'. I can't do it alone.

I finished and then slipped the entry into the drawer burying it beneath the Bible. I left it so that the next time someone utters 'I can't' they know they aren't alone. I wonder if anyone will ever find it. I wonder if they already did.


Falling Up said...

I'm sorry. May God keep you strong.

Tazeen said...

i really like the title of your post. It somehow is sad, yet has a lot of strength. There is an element of choice in the statement as well.

Marwa said...

Is this why you always steal hotel paper when we leave?

controlled chaos said...

I'm sorry for your pain. Reading your post I felt like you react a lot like I do. sigh

This would not be a good time for this, but I just wanted to let you know that we chose you for an award. So come back to our place to check it out!
luv u

MarjnHomer said...

sorry for your loss but with time the wound does heal

Marwa E said...

Wow. Sometimes you amaze me darling. Your papa died like 12 years ago though right? Amazing how somethings only impact us after they happen

seher's shenanigans said...

i miss the taste of him :)
thank you for puttin the forgotten thoughts back in my mind!