All’s Fair in Love & War Justice. Selflessness/Altruism. Feminist Perspective. Proletariat.

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The Sea

You know I am always intimidated by the sea, the water. I can’t swim.

You told me to hold on to you, so I clung.

The days were sunny, breezy, yet chilly. I held on to you, tighter, and the moment I felt safe and relaxed in the warm sea water.

Overnight, the sky turned dark, thunderstorm hit, resulting heavy rainfall and crushing waves. I got all scared. Amid the lightning and strangling waves.

I held on closer and tighter. Should I loosen my grasp, I drop.

Suddenly, I felt incredible pang coming from you. You were struggling for your survival, I figured, so irrationally.

You kicked me, hit me, wanting to part.

I was already half-conscious out of the fanatically nauseating float; I was already feeble.

You know I most dreaded water—yet I had to let go cause I could not take the penetrating pain either. You were ruthless.

I let you go and I started to sink. Primal fears set in. With no one to cling fast to anymore, I was free falling beneath the darkness. The taste of salty sea, the chokes from the rushed-in sea.

I didn’t hit the bottom, as I regained my consciousness.

I float on, amid the borderless sea.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * ** * * * * *

Journey

This was our journey together. Both hands full with belongings, we walked on, side by side.

Amid nowhere, you slowed, hesitated, and paused. You told me you no longer had the mind to walk on and wanted to quit. Your blank eyes told of nothing but numbness.

Tears rushing out, pleading, helplessly.

The journey has to be completed. I could barely survive in this desolate nowhere.

Retrieving my belongings, tears still streaming down, I plodded on, before the night fell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * ** * * * * *

Wander

I wander afar, not to be found by you, by myself, by longing, and by hate.

Can we always stay sane and rational? The book titled “A New Guide to Rational Living” lies there, coldly and motionlessly, mocking.

Every possible emotional outbreak materialized in pouring tears is neutralized and offset by this thing called dreams. While in dreams, horror, terror, struggle, jealousy, cutting pain, and loss reign.

The need to be understood, sympathized, appreciated, and doted on is still keen. . . . .

The worst has befallen, leaving me struggling for breath. Nothing in the world, then, could harm me anymore. My heart is dead and you cannot molest a dead soul.