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Sunday, 30 March 2014

Droplets

She sits awkwardly huddled in a corner of a back street, run down, ramshackled cafe
Hiding from the world that she finds so intolerably unfair and so deeply cruel
Disheveled and damp from her encounter with the sky... that just would not wait

Her gaze wanders wistfully and becomes transfixed upon the dirty windows where the rain droplets descend
Using her headphones in order to retreat further, she tunes into the music where she wishes to escape
Immediately she is baffled and hypnotised by how the melody makes the rain drops fervently dance
Pirouetting, cascading, tumbling gracefully towards one another where they briefly have a dalliance and merge;
dividing, multiplying, creating reflective tracks... patterns within the grime that lingers there

Within her is stirred an ugly intense emotion from which she is captive and wishes to be set free
The droplets fall slowly, effortlessly; if only like them, she too could flow without fear
The aroma of the sweet coffee fills the air; she closes her eyes to be alone with her thoughts
The melody intensifies, hairs bristle on her neck; infact she swears she can hear the cello cry...
the slender, sensual bow torturing the cello with its relentless, rhythmic sweet caress

Her heart begins to palpitate and, of her breathing, she becomes paranoid and acutely conscious
The music engulfs her and smothers her, leaving her spluttering and gasping for breath
She must leave here, she cannot stay... there is no solace to be found for her here

Unfed, she flees the cafe and rejoins the rain and its welcomed cold, stark reality check
Her pace quickens; she knows not from what she is running or indeed running to
Wind through her hair, moisture on her cheeks, she is invigorated... she is once again alive

Her stomach untwists and her thoughts rewind, to a place that she once considered home
His eyes burn in her brain and she searches for him hopelessly in the crowds, delusional and in vain
Her head aches; her mind, it spins... how could he, why, what else could she have done?
Was this always to be her fate; her destiny to walk these lonely, unforgiving streets alone?

His ghost haunts her heart, steals the pleasure from each day; even sours and spoils the food that she tastes
She is lost, yet wants never to be found, as to forget him would be unbearable... the greatest
 tragedy of all
She hears herself cry out his name but it's futile... as the wind and the music carry her cry gently away


© Debbie Razey 2014