W for Wait

In response to the a to z challenge

Airborne, soaring, weightlessness and then I am buoyant; meeting your soul, a perfect fit, even if it is afterlife. We met late, too late, car-crashes, accidents, fate, souls collected and dumped unceremoniously. The trip to paradise frightening, angels over-worked, under-payed; too many innocents killed in this age.

Broken, smiles that are straining over the sandpaper of disuse, leaving harsh lines, jagged wounds where there was nothing when we had started. We are squashed together, uncomfortable, a bus journey, who’d have thought- there is no staircase to heaven.

Cathartic, the spray of pent up talk that chased into our soul, bringing peace where there was unrest. Jostling over clouds, drawn together by fear, two souls threading what was it they called it six feet above? Hands.

Disuse, slowly the heart that began to work again, coiling and smearing the world in ink, spewing steadily a concoction of hurt and hope. Even in the crowd of pristine selfishness, we stuck out, two souls instead of one, who finds dates in a journey to paradise? But, we travel for the journey, not the destination- another saying that lingers in our soul, tarnishes it- we are falling behind, burdened by the flood of feelings possessed.

Evanescent, the tangles of our soul as we try to find a way out of this confusion, spidery cobwebs that weave us closer. I find solace in you, and you in me, we are more- almost a we. At the door of heaven, they stop us, too human, not in couples, funny, we were barred for the opposite reasons down on earth.

Fuse, be one, or halt- stay, hold and prepare, backpaddle- maybe we should
wait. Born again, you say? Together live that life on earth which alone had been so pale? Risk happiness for happiness.

Frantic, hearts beating backwards, double up and rewind, cutting out the pictures, making a scrabble or a song. Two souls almost fused, torn out, broken, angel hands, cold- calculating, maybe we had been tricked, a small voice wondered.

Empty, both of us, two jars, liquid, souls without threads, spools of DNA and a few enzymes that dissolve what glued us together. And we step back into the world, you in your own boundaries, me in my own.

Dreams, that is what you’re reduced to- its no longer a we, no longer a forgiveness, a story that is barely two lines anymore. Deep in my sleep, a restlessness,as if someone is waiting for me, where? Ask seven billion people, alas life is too short. Yet it persists, a dream forgotten.

Casual, we are on our meetings, we learnt our souls inside out and now we are strangers, a you and an I. Who are you, who am I, maybe a ring or two, a paper saying we belong to each other till we decide we don’t want to anymore.

Barren, a dreary, colder empty, one without rhymes or meanings, because we had fled from reality. Now we are destroyed, only like two people in love can be. I am soulless, so are you, we found each other, but a body is a barrier, we were the same soul, now we are two entities.

Cliche, again, You breathe, and it mists the walls, swims in my head, songs, whispers, beauty battling with what could have been. Almost forgotten, like a painting burnt in a fire, the paint weeping down the canvas, your soul weeping for me, yet we warred over bills and green.

The wait, it did us- made our wishes come true, and then made us ache.

We are bare souls, looking for soulmates, and even after I found you, it was never the same, for a song must come to an end, and we were meant to be a forever.

Forevers don’t exist in the mortal world, only waiting does.
So we waited, and we ached.

 

 

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