Made by: Kimberly Kaye Javier Atuel
Posted on: June 25, 2010
Time: 2:56a.m.
Author's Notes:
- An attempt in Poetic prose.
- A story of fiction.
- A song titled "Insensitive" by Jann Arden
p.s.,
—surprise, Michiyo-chan! —♥
p.p.s.,
Thanks to Gef Osorio for reminding me to credit the songtitle/singer.
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... as I walked home, I had to pass a poorly lit, lonely row of houses.
As I was growing accustomed to what was around me,
I stopped to a hauntingly familiar song spilling out of an open window.
"Oh I really should have known.
By the time you drove me home,
By the vagueness in your eyes,
Your casual good-byes.
By the chill in your embrace.
The expression on your face.
That told me maybe you might have some advice to give
On how to be insensitive..."
The song was in the middle of a sad guitar rift... and I held my breath.
The melody touched me. The words whispered the truth.
And so, the dull ache in the pit of heart, throbbed with renewed pain.
I had to smile despite that. I had to continue on in my journey home.
Clutching my books harder against the hurt in my chest, I resumed my pace.
Even as the tune grew fainter, I would not permit it to resonate in my head.
I clouded my head with trivial things, with adult-like "matters of consequence",
with anything I could grasp out of thin air...
Yes, anything to keep the specters at bay.
No, it was not to be. For IT happened... again.
I end up stopping in my tracks, and held my breath as the sound grew louder.
At first I thought the song had managed to follow me after all...
I thought that despite my efforts my mind was singing my misery aloud.
Somehow, I am not suprised this not the first time I (un)willingly caused hurt on myself.
Just then, out of the corner of the street, a figure came forward to view.
"Oh you probably won't remember me,"
He sang, in a voice I'd know anywhere, in any lifetime...
It was a fellow young voice who also knew of dull aches and renewed pain.
"It's probably ancient history.
I'm one of the chosen few,
Who went ahead and fell for you.
I'm out of vogue, I'm out of touch.
I fell too fast, I feel too much.
I thought that you might have some advice to giv— "
He stopped in his tracks, held his breath abruptly ceasing the song.
He looked at me. And only God knows how he interpreted what he saw.
Here I am, with my books as my shield, my narrowed eyes as my weapon.
I stood my ground even as his each step towards me threatened and overwhelmed.
And when the front of his shirt touched my blouses' sleeve, I icily finished for him.
"I thought that you might have some advice to give
On how to be insensitive..." I felt my eyes challenging him to answer.
He held out his hand like so many before him,
He held it out as if the dull pain never existed at all.
He held it before me ~ to tempt me, to guide me, to cajole me, to push me ~ I had no clue.
Feeling my lips traitorously quiver, I quickly angled my chin in a bold manner I did not feel.
Shaking his head, he unraveled my protective arms around myself.
And sang,
"How do you numb your skin,
After the warmest touch?
How do you slow your blood?
After the body rush? And with emphasis in his eyes, he continued.
" How do you free your soul
After you've found a friend?
How do you teach your heart it's a crime...
To fall in love again?"
I tried not to visibly swallow the ache as in formed into a lump in my throat...
Smiling, he tipped his Fedora struck me as a lifetime sort of farewell.
Like a whisper, he gently brushed passed me and continued on his way.
As he turned the corner and disappeared from my sight,
His singing voice remained clear and compelling in his wake.
It was hauntingly familiar tune...
It was my sad song.
And yet, he was singing too.
