— a short nonfiction by potpourris.
Trahison Des Clercs
An endless spiral of a limbo
If only you knew the pain of your own breath leaving you.
The treachery of your bones aching against you.
The betrayal of your own heart as it crawls back to
that very thing you struggle to forget.
The feeling of Judas’ kiss.
Everything is in limbo, including you and I. Nothing is what it seems anymore. Both of us hides the truth of our disposition with a simple shrug and a toneless laugh. Whoever said, “a smile can hide so much,” deserves to be slapped repeatedly for shining a light on such a truth.
Everything is so out of place, far from where they’re supposed to be. Logic doesn’t add up to anything anymore — if anything, it only causes further disturbance. For instance, he still has room for her in a way that I could never have fit in.
He’ll never know the poems I wrote for him just as she’ll never know how he truly feels about her. He thinks he’s having the best time of his life talking to her, while she talks to her lover, and I await his reply. An endless, thorny loop of Ménage à Trois that makes me want to die.
I’m tired of remembering you like this. Giving the what-ifs a chance to devour my being just because I gave my imagination of you the kiss of life. After all, the possibility of you is better than the reality of anyone else. One look away from reality and those gleaming brown eyes have, again, become the object of my prayers.
One look away from reality,
and the pain doesn’t seem so bad after-all.
As long as she’s around — though the words would soon escape me, you’ll forever be a language I’m no longer fluent in, but still remembers how to read.
Until then, say hi to her from me.
