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Array
(
[sid] => 154569
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Wind is Me
[time] => 2009-10-30 12:02:35
[hometext] => One of my few works.
[bodytext] => The words “I love you” caress her ear like a playful wind, but as she turns to her side, no one is there. She pushes it to the back her mind, but these words are just too powerful to disregard. Slowly, she starts to wonder where those words came from; whether or not they had any meaning. A feeling of discontent beings to surface; for the way those words were whispered sounds all but too familiar. Again those three words tickle her ear: “I love you,” and again she looks over her shoulder to find nothing but the wind. Now she’s telling herself she’s just hearing things; that it’s all in her mind. But the way those words were uttered could have only passed the lips of one person, and that person is as forgotten as the wind flowing through her hair. She tells herself it’s impossible; that for those words to have any meaning would make everything else meaningless. But now a lump beings to form in her throat, and she bites her lip, for she has realized from whose lips these words have echoed, but to admit it would be like chasing after the wind. And she is too old now to be chasing the wind. She’s been misled one too many times, and will no longer put up with such childish games. But once more, those three words are uttered in such a way; such a way indistinguishable to anything else; such passion; meaning; yearning for a response. A single tear runs down her cheek; her lip starts to tremble. “I can’t” she whispers to herself…“I can’t.” For a moment she sits there; absolute silence; waiting for an answer. But the only answer she gets is the cool, mellow breathe of the wind on her neck. She tilts her head down; staring at her hands gripping her knees; knuckles turning white; trying to comprehend what is happening to her. “I love you” repeats no one. “Why…why are you here.” “I love…” “Answer me god damn it! Is this a game?” And again only the wind responds; calmly, softly, stroking her elegant face with its unreal fingers. She tilts her head back up, and draws her hand to where she wasn’t touched. And now it has hit her; the memories once suppressed; erupting to the forefront of her conscious mind. And it hits her hard; the feelings she hasn’t felt in an age and a half. The passion on her lips; warmth in her arms; tingling on her neck; pressure on her chest; all these forgotten sensations overwhelm her. She can barely breathe. Her eyes sting and her arms are heavy. “You see my darling…I love you…” sighs the playful wind.
[comments] => 0
[counter] => 147
[topic] => 22
[informant] => mollyb5555
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => LostLove
)
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