Monday, 23 May 2011

The heart & the arms

 

Alas, although you’re him whose in my heart, I’m not her who is in your arms.

It is the last time she’ll see his back. As often as she had done so for the past 9 months, staring into the infinite suction of hope and wonder, it is time that they be parted.

She is so close to him that she hears him breathing the gentle sea breeze. There is some sunlight, but not enough to provide sufficient warmth to her; she wraps her arms around her.

She wonders, every time at the sight of him, that what would have become of them if she had come clean with him. But even if she had the courage, would that change anything?

There are so many If only’s, If only that’ll never be. Looking at his back from afar, thinking, If only you knew how I felt about you. 

It is just like the weather, a raging storm contained in the dark clouds, awaiting the opportunity to burst free. But her feelings must never obtain freedom.

She then hears him say, “Nine months in a flash, and we’ll be home.” A small fissure-like smile appear on the face of the girl warmly tucked in his arms.

She turns around, and with her heavy footsteps, gradually moving away. He did not notice her departure.

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