Naive [14 Jul 2004|03:55pm] And the morning light was breaking Slowly moving across the bed He gets up without her waking To the voices in his head He stood for a moment, looking at the figure still lying in bed. The cool light filtered through the curtains, casting his shadow across her. She was beautiful. Somehow, it made him feel guilty. Leaving her would be easier if she were not so beautiful. In the bathroom, his studied his image in the mirror. Leaning forward, almost nose to nose with himself, he muttered "Who are you?" He was rounder than he had ever been -- a bit soft around the middle, and his cheeks was fuller than he remembered. He had always been lean and hard, just on the edge of emaciated. But now... now he looked pink and healthy. His once gleaming blue eyes were a flat, empty gray. He was the image of the domestic American, right down to the dark circles under his eyes. Through the shadows in the hallway To the room they painted blue And on the inside he is frightened At a loss for what to do He leaned against the kitchen sink, looking out the window. The neighborhood was so quiet. It was always quiet. It was an upscale suburban paradise. A row of quaint houses with manicured lawns, and a new car in every garage. What am I doing here? He wandered into the living room. He let his fingers trace the edges of picture frames and trinkets. There was no dust here. They owned expensive furniture, a large entertainment system they never used, and dozens of small, useless artifacts, testament to the futility of his very self. He picked up a picture, fingering its intricate frame. It was one of their wedding photos. His muscular arms were looped around her slender waist, her head leaned against his chest. Ringlets of her blonde hair framed her creamy angelic face. She was the ideal woman. She was everything most men ever wanted. His broad smile showed that he knew it. They looked happy. Until he opens up his eyes And the angels all look down Even closer than this life Closer than your faith She stirred when he entered the bedroom. He sat down on the bed, smoothing her hair. He make cooing noises and tucked the blanket in around her chin. She licked her lips and settled back into stillness. He pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ratty pair of sneakers. She hated his sneakers. Closer than the things that you hold dearly And in vain Closer than this life Falling through again Giving more than anything That you could hope to win The sun was rising over the water. It sparkled pink and orange. It was almost blinding. He loved this river. He had spent his life here, finding consolation in its waters. He spoke to them and they washed the sand from his feet, never asking questions. He came here in the mornings to think and to be alone. He left his shoes in the car. Approaching the waterline, he didn't bother to cuff his pants. He liked the feel of stiff wet denim at his ankles. She hated that about him. He was always getting wet, always tracking sand into the car and house, always carrying the smell of river water. He weaved in and out of the water as he made his way down the beach. And he knows his life is changing It's never easy letting go For the first time you are mortal As the child before you grows And he wonders at the sight Of the joy that he has found He sank into the soft sand. It worked its way into the crevices of clothing -- into his pockets, down the back of jeans. It clung to his shirt. She would be angry. She hated sand. He tilted his head back, staring at the trees behind him. They looked strange, upside down. He loved to look at things from a new perspective. She hated it. She had once found him lying on their kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling fan, and had watched him like a hawk for weeks. She still looked at him suspiciously from time to time. He felt free here. Even closer than this life Closer than your faith Closer than the things that you hold dearly And in vain Closer than this life Falling through again Giving more than anything That you could hope to win "I love you." He sat up with a start. "I didn't hear you come." The girl kneeled next to him. She had smooth dark skin, a strong jaw, full rosy lips and large pleading eyes. Her thick, silky hair was a rich brown that shon red and gold in the early sunlight. The girl was beautiful in all the ways that his wife was not. She looked energetic, full of life. She looked happy. "What are you doing here?" "I love you. Come with me." And what would you intend to find? Solitude? Your peace of mind? Holding out for something less Than touching the hand of God? "I can't." "Yes you can. There's nothing keeping you here. You don't love her. We can have a life together." "You're a child." "I'm old enough. Come with me. I love you." His eyes welled with tears. Tears for her and her love. "You don't understand anything. You're just a child." "I'm leaving tonight. Meet me at the train station at 8 o'clock. East entrance. I already bought your ticket. Don't be late." She planted a kiss on his cheek and was gone. Even closer than this life Closer than this faith Closer than the things that you hold dearly And in vain He heard stiletto heels clicking on the kitchen floor. "I've been worried sick about you. I talked to Father this afternoon, he said you never showed up to work. He's really angry, you should have called in. Are you sick or something? Where were you when I woke up this morning? I thought you had gone to work early." She kept talking, but he wasn't listening. He stared at the clock. 6:22. It would take a half hour to drive to the train station. Probably 15 minutes to pack his things. 20 if she caught him. Maybe more. Closer than this life Closer finally Living for the only thing You ever made complete Oh, for the one thing That you both did perfectly She didn't hear him crying in his sleep that night. She never knew about the hearts that were broken. She never noticed the part of him that died. She never knew. post comment

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[22 Jan 2003|09:02pm] Placeholder . 3 comments|post comment

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