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Friday, December 30, 2011


I huddle in the corner embracing rest with shaky hands and tears being smeared from cheek to cheek.  My stomach turns with pain and the feeling of being home sick from the sorrow and guilt I have seeing rest whimper with abandonment.  She holds me tight with her head sunk deep into my chest, making my shirt wet from her crying mouth locked wide open,  as if she was screaming.  A sad story of a girl who only wants love, a story of a young women who has no parents, who has no home, who needs someone to smile at, to laugh with, and to say goodnight to.  Her old stuffed animals only give her a small amount of the attention she needs; she needs a family.  Her eyes constantly wander, looking for someone to pick her up, and hold her.   But no one ever does, so she becomes jagged over the years with let downs and sadness.   Her flickering light slowly starts to die down into a whistling path of smoke.  Her wandering eyes stop wandering over the years, as they now sadly stare down at her painted toe nails, that no one has seemed to notice or comment on.  The smile she tried so hard to show, the smile no one noticed, the smile she used to try to bait people into her love with, was soon turned into a puddle of rain water, that dripped down the muddy bank into the lake leading to a land of nowhere. 

I do love her, but I can’t be with her.  It’s the hardest thing I have ever done pulling her locked arms away from my body.  Disconnecting her drool from my chest to her mouth was like taking her soul.  Her arms stretched out like Frankenstein, her blue watery eyes opened wider as panic rushed over her.  Her mouth seemed to make no noise, but was open as wide as God would allow it.  As she closed her eyes tears came down her face.  Her mouth closed, her head dropped, soon she became lifeless.    

She was there but not, her heart was pounding, but not working.  I left her that day, and I walked backwards when I did it, hoping and praying that someone else would take her hand, and love her right there and then.  She deserves to be loved, she deserves nothing less.  She would only bring me down.  She would only be a weight on my sail, I had no choice.  Rest has no place in my life. I have no time for rest, only train.  I will always love rest, but I will spend the rest of my dying days with train.  Train is my life, rest is my heart ache.  Rest 2012

1 comment:

  1. While you're neglecting rest, I have snuck into her house behind your back and I'm 'hitting' her, hard.

    And we are deliriously happy and getting better.