Broken Glass of Water Pouring

Broken Glass of Water Pouring

I felt the water slide down my back with screeching pain that scorched my body. My hair was doused in the ice cold water that chilled the warm in the air. My eyes wouldn’t open for the waterfall that drowned me flowed fast and constant down my eyes. The sheer liquid that could barely be seen by me was hiding so far away from me. It burned so hot that the ice in the water had melted itself away. And the water secreted so far down to the floor. I loathed the water. It’d only keep drowning my thoughts.

That rain was pouring from a cheap glass of water that tipped as I walked out the door. It angered its pourress to the point of her jolting her high and painfully shrill scream. I remember myself walking alone on the sidewalk with that cloud of a glass overhead. It was the first of the glasses to spill all around me and it would not die until I was dead. It would keep up its haunting of me through each night, and through each day it would stalk me and stare. I never was able to relieve myself of its chill. It would keep up its hindrance to me and to I, it’d make unable to speak. It would make me unable to laugh. It would make me unable to live. It would make me able to pour cold water for my own chapped mouth to lap.

Everyday I would race off to work in my red car that couldn’t go fast enough. It couldn’t outrun the grey cloud overhead; That water glass that shadowed eternally. I would get myself to work and it would linger over anyone who was near, bleeding them of their bright white light and shifting it to dark navy blue. For all I could see was this rich color blue. For all I could know was this rich color blue. For all I now remember of the world is blue, deep as the ocean and shallow as the stream.

And at night I would look out my window and watch the blue streetlight’s shimmer. It would bear underneath it a talking water glass that only knew to make me shiver. That only knew to horrify me. That only knew to remind me. That only knew to wink at me. That only knew to laugh at me. That knew only to cry at me. That knew only to shriek at me. That knew only to fall upon me. That knew only to crack and die and bring me and kill me with it. That knew only to haunt me.

I would awake at 4 in the morning sometimes and stare at the ceiling. I’d see a cloud of dark blue. I could only see its water that dripped. Drop. By Drop. By Drop. And by Drop. I could only see that damn blue glass shattered and mixed in the water. I would only see its shards that could pierce me all the way through the blue night. I would only hear my screams. I could only hear my cries. I would only sit and watch it pour. I could only await its passing.

But eventually gotten I had over the blue glass and eventually moved on I had with my life. Accepted I had its life for what it was and accepted I had my life for what it had been. It would stay in back of my mind though I still knew it was there. I still felt it was there. I still hated it being there. I still believed I could go on. But it kept its pursuit of my happiness by its terms, and it kept up its pursuit of my pain.

I remember that day that I thought it had finally left me to myself. And I was breathing easy. And I didn’t feel so cold. I felt so much warmth on that red December day and I screamed with joy! for once. I bumped then into a tall and wide man, and he turned around himself and he poured water cold down upon me. “That glass” I thought as I was being soaked to the dry bone. “That glass should kill itself” I thought as I was being soaked to the dry bone. “That glass had better break itself” I thought.

And one day it did. The glass lead me to a small house in the woods I had seen many a time before. It walked me up its steps and with each gaunt it doused another cup of pain upon me. With my approach to the door I was being forced down oh so low to the ground. I then forced myself to enter. To break through water’s pain. I forced my hand on the doorknob. Its heat scolded my skin, but with that cold water I was saved. Finally, good came out of misfortune. I repeated my action and I fell upon the door. I placed my hand down. I screeched and fell in the room. Barely breathing yet heaving for air I looked up across and entering the room was that girl I remembered. Vividly remembered. She looked at me with her furious tigers of eyes and kicked my stomach many times. She threw me out of her house. She left me to cry by myself. I slowly brought myself up to my feet and I walked over to the window and I watched her fury. I watched her fury as she knocked over a glass of cold ice water off the side of the side table. The same thing she had done the last time I had tried to come over.