quarta-feira, novembro 07, 2012

A ball of concentrated anger


When night fell she was cold on the outside but warm on the inside. And she was light. I remember her slow whisper, her soft smile while she felt happier than she had been in years. A strike of lightning, that was, the change in her over only a few days. While he disappeared further down into the darkness of her mind, she lit up and I saw her smile. She stood, back straight, light once again, without his weight to tie her down to the peering darkness of night. And all she was was power, energy, light and revival of a life once gone.
She would constantly forget about him. For the first time ever since she first heard his voice and touched his face she forgot how it sounded or how it felt. She forgot why she loved him so badly. All that was left, in the end off all that, was hatred. Pure fury and spite. I believed that she could kill when I saw her filled with concentrated anger throwing punches at the walls. First stage be gone. She could have killed him on sight, I know this by now, she's dangerous in a peculiar way. No one would say... Second stage she wanted revenge. The hours had passed, the house was new but it needed to be cleaned. Cleaners were called, all was done. Revenge had come and past. And he stayed. For the other she forgot, she blocked, repressed even the smallest trace of him on her (that's what the cleaners were for). And once again, she was light. Light as a feather, shining brighter than the sun, blinding me.      

Sem comentários: