He knew it was
over. No words were needed. No pieces of paper that try to squeeze a
thousand different feelings into something which holds such limited
boundaries. Her eyes told the story. He looked away for a brief second.
Afraid. As if the person in front of him were some unwanted beggar on
the street corner. Shock quickly filled his heart and then, like a
pricked balloon, slowly deflated, spreading that feeling of complete
helplessness throughout his soul. He looked back at her with sudden
hopes this was all just a dream. But her eyes told the story. In a
thousand languages he didn’t understand but understood all the same. He
stood on the sidewalk, staring into those eyes. The same eyes he had
admired so many beautiful days and so many wondrous nights. So many
times he had stared deeply into them and felt himself a part of that
wonder and beauty. A oneness. A stillness, deep and dark. Haunting and
beautiful. Unreal and comforting. He watched an opaque tear slowly grow
in size until it hung like a million days on the edge of a calendar.
Deeply seeded intentions swelled up inside the silence of the tear and
the roar of the million days consumed him to the point he couldn’t bear
listening or seeing the tear any longer.
He reached up and wiped it from her face. He gently kissed her on the forehead, turned with one last look, and walked away from her toward forever, holding the tear in his fingers.
© 2012, Walter Tupelo
He reached up and wiped it from her face. He gently kissed her on the forehead, turned with one last look, and walked away from her toward forever, holding the tear in his fingers.
© 2012, Walter Tupelo
