Lightnings in the dark.
My eyes hurt for the tears I’ve spilled,
But my soul is egging me on.
Watch, it murmurs.
Look.
I see the clouds turning to a different shade.
The fronds of the trees dance wildly with the wind
And I observe your eyes.
They appear before me.
So far away.
The rain begins to fall, it washes everything away,
Except for my pain. That stays, as a knife,
Planted between my ribs.
You were the storm, the dark clouds.
You were the water over my dry skin.
I scream your name, call you,
But no answer. I watch as whirlwinds surround me,
I’m afraid. But I don’t move.
I remember.
I want to let go.
I finally find a voice. My throat echoes some sounds:
“I was yours, storm! You owned me!
You dictated the rhythm of my heart and the curves of my body!”
And the sins of my soul, I think.
The depths of my darkness.
“You owned my passions and my moans, you’ve embraced me whole.
Now you turned into smoke and I…”
I can’t talk.
The fog curls around me. It caresses my skin
With its viscid tentacles, dragging me down in a black sea of memories.
“I owned you, you were mine. Where do you think you could ever go?”
That voice. That tone in my ear. A stinging bee.
I swim. I swim up, away from the memories of those sleepless nights.
Away from the endless desires you had. Away.
From you.
Finally, fresh air. I walk on the earth and the dark clouds are far.
The storm is wandering elsewhere, destroying new things, while I cry
And smile.
I’m free. From your chains, from your own.
I’m my own.
