Thank you for bearing with me
Another old one - the ultimate irony in this is that I'm not sure for whom it was written. It's all over the place. hmmmm. Guess I'm feeling nostalgic. Mood.
Twisting
By his own admission, and in his own words, he had left her on two
different occasions to twist silently in the wind. He’d disappeared without a word.
And when he finally returned, he offered her no excuse or reason for
what he’d done - other than to say that his feelings for her were a wild
ride, swinging wildly from affection to distance and denial. Oddly, she found hope in that for some reason.
She accepted what he said, happy for the moment to simply have him
back again, once more a small part of her life. It never occurred to her
to turn him away, to turn from him, to deny him. To deny him would
only serve to deny herself. She loved him so.
But still, it was clear. He’d shown her by his actions that she was quite
disposable, a trifling thing really, as easily discarded as some
inconvenient bit of rubbish he no longer cared to deal with. He had a
busy life.
It ate at her, that second time … that he was capable of leaving without
a word or second thought for her and how she might feel. Without a moment’s
notice, and without apology or regret. He had done it before, and he could do it
again.
She forced a promise from him then, that next time he should leave
he would tell her so, at least. And he did.
It was the only promise he ever made to her, and the only promise he
had ever kept. Or would ever keep again.
So she found herself staring at his back once more, the very back she
had lain upon and melted, like a cat, he’d said.
And there was no safeword for her to call to stop the pain. There was
no sound at all, other than his spoken promise now fulfilled, which
echoed inside her head. Except, of course, the sound of the wind
which whistled at his back
and left her twisting slowly
in the silence of his absence
once again.
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