A Teardrop of Blood
Standing by the window, looking out on the horizon, only the silence there to greet me, wondering where did I go wrong.
The TV in the background, replaying on repeat the memories of the past — strangely only the happy ones. Though my own personal TV—behind my eyes— flashes the gaps that were never meant to be seen by others. I close my eyes, focusing on those bits, hoping that they are still there, hurtful, but I welcome it all.
It doesn’t hurt the same way it did at that time; the effect of those memories long gone—faded— with time. No use trying to keep them with me, yet I do. I welcome the pain.
I feel my eyes swell with the tears of the past, knowing but not accepting that that time has already passed. Sitting there staring out of the window, my pain flows out, finally letting go of the past.
By: Sasha Ana Lobo
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