May 28, 2017

Without a Muse

Photo courtesy of Pinterest.com

Christie Smith ’17

 

Strands of hair whipped around my face as the wind picked up.

I could feel the rain as it soaked through my jacket.

You were walking towards me, about to say what I could only surmise,

But then the distance between us closed, and there was only silence, as we shared no words.

You threw me a twisted smile, which could have meant so much or truly nothing at all.

You were an unfortunate place to find perfection.

I let you fill the dampness of life, and you proved to be better than anything I could have created.

Our love was like the tide, we pulled together, only to retreat again into ourselves.

One of us was about to speak, always, but refrained, always.

“Next time” became a mantra, our unspoken motto.

But as I stood there, alone, I couldn’t find a “next time.”

It seemed optimism had finally betrayed us.

My heart was sprawled in thousands of pieces, openly displayed on the brick path as you walked past.

I combed through the recesses of my mind as the fragments we once shared came flooding back,

But this time they were barely real, nothing more than an apathetic heap of memories.

I strove in vain to hold your eyes with mine, but you looked to me, only momentarily, as if I were your sun.

I’m not sure what to say when I’m devoid of passion,

And without a muse I simply don’t know how to create.

I fought to find meaning in the faces, a throbbing sea of color,

But most of the time it turned up empty, merely an empty pool of tireless connection.

I closed my eyes and was able to see all of what we were, void of any nostalgic twinge.

I’m not sure what to feel because it wasn’t him and now I don’t think it’s you.

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