tainted with love, broken with pain

I still remember the words he used to whisper softly in my ear. The words that were meant for me and me alone. It felt strange and light and I love the feeling of being able to let go of all the pain I had always been carrying in this heart of mine. All this while, I had carried along a heavy heart. Perhaps now, it would weigh a lot less. A lot less to enable me to fly away. Because, that’s what I’m doing right now, floating away from reality as I feel the life drain out of me, the same way blood is draining away from me through the deep wound in my wrist.
I cannot justify my actions to people who would not understand. Perhaps to them, they would never truly understand the bond between me and him. I can’t live without him. Period. So, now he’s gone, I have to go too. I guess it was never meant to be between us. We could not see this love of ours till the end of the road. However, I promised him once. He would never have to be alone again. All our lives, the both of us had been alone in this world. Parents divorced and constantly arguing. Mother only allowed me to live with her because grandmother made her promise that she would only put Mum’s name in her will if she took care of me. Dad? He was an alcoholic. In this ocean of confusion and heartbreak, the both of us found each other. He was the one constant in my life. We would go everywhere together. Smile and laugh together, cry together and just simply be together. Perhaps it’s his smile that has driven me to this. I can’t imagine going through one more day without seeing him smile at me in reality. I’ve dreamt of his smile, of his touch so many times that it makes it impossible for me to differentiate the distinct fine line between reality and fantasy. But it’s alright, darling. I’m coming to you. I’m coming home to you.
I’m sorry I had to let you be alone for the past week but I’ll make it up to you, alright? He was so full of life and so full of silly jokes that would constantly light up my boring and dreary day. And now? He was just a few ounces of ashes sitting in a pretty china urn next to me as I lay on the floor. Thinking back of the happier times we once shared. We were so happy, but why did they have to take the one thing in life that mattered to me? I would never understand adults nor their cruel doings. They didn’t want their kids but they could not stand to see them happy as well. Happy and in love. The selfish act of ripping our hearts out and stomping on it until nothing is left to indicate love ever took place. I can’t admit that our love did ever run a smooth course. My love was a love among the ruins. Love to me, wasn’t meant to be choreographed so beautifully and with such precision and perfection. To start of with something slow but with the promise of something so graceful and beautiful and it blossoms into something so brilliant no one can deny and only to end it off with a truly fairytale and wonderful ending. Those were for the people who were lucky. But it’s not for me. So? Even if my love with him wasn’t perfect…it was still love. It was love among the ruins that most people would have avoided but to the both of us? I guess when you have nothing to hold on to, love among the ruins was the closest thing we had to perfection and magic. But it wasn’t enough for them…it wasn’t enough for the world. He once told me he didn’t need the world…because I was his world.
And so, on the eve of my birthday, they came and took him away. His parents tore him from my grasp and amidst his shouts and pleas; they pushed him into that Volvo and locked him. What could I do? All I could do was stand and stare at them as they took away the air that I breathe. Bad influence they said. Because of this relationship, grades have dropped. Because of this relationship, I would have to drop out of college due to my pregnancy. I was only 19 years old. Screw them. Since when was our lives ever important to them? Since when did grades matter? Since the fateful morning, he announced we were getting married and we were going to raise our child together, without the bad influence of our parents. What good would come out from my side of the family who was an alcoholic and money minded? And his family…his mum would sleep around and bring home guys she whose names she wouldn’t remember the next morning. His dad? Living about 20,000 miles away with his other family and only visiting his kid 3 times a year couldn’t be considered family.
And so, in the car, they fought and he tried to get out of the car to make his way to me. To tell me how much he loved me right there and then and that he would come back to me. The last thing I would always remember was him, staring at me through the window of the Volvo, mouthing ‘I love you’. I love you too, darling. I love you too. The fight got violent and they crashed while on the highway. My darling died but his parents survived. When I heard the news, I felt empty, hollow and dry of tears. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. All I could do was replay memories of the good times we had together. The smiles, the coy touches, the promises and the kisses. The tears and the heartbreak just formed a void within me. A void so big, it would never be able to close up again.
I’m on the floor in my bedroom and pools of my dark red blood surrounded me. Hmmm…a positive blood, I thought to myself. Three days after his death, mum took me to get an abortion. My only remnant of him was ripped away once again. I can’t live without him. I can’t live without you. Dear God, how could someone feel so much pain and loss and love at the same time? I can’t. Each morning I get up, I curse the day. I curse the day for letting me live. For letting me live when my baby and love could not. I would have loved my baby so much because he or she were pieces of him and me. Pieces of love. I was all alone once again. A meaningless existence of getting up, crying and sleeping again. I couldn’t take it anymore. As I stared at the picture of him and me, I made up my mind. I promised him that he would never have to face anything alone again. So be it. I didn’t want to be alone myself. When he was 5 years old, his stepfather locked him in the garden shed for two whole days without light, food or water as punishment. He was never quite the same after that. Always afraid of the dark and being alone. Hence, I made him that promise. A promise I intended to keep.
So, I took a blade and placed it tangentially to my wrist. My veins were visible. Wait for me, darling. I’m coming. I walked over to my blank white wall and used a black marker to draw. To draw a broken heart that tore and separated about three quarters and was connected the rest of the way. Nonetheless, it was broken. Next, two hands cupped each side of the heart. Both of our hands. Yours and mine. A band was drawn around the heart. Torn in two as well. One half containing your name and the other contained mine. You always did say I was a good artist, especially at drawing hands. You? You couldn’t draw to save your life. The hands and the heart were surrounded and entangled with thorns…and the at the bottom, there were two roses, entangled in thorns as well. Done…this picture expressed how I felt. I was never good with words.
I first drew this picture when I was separated from him for about a week, when he was forced to stop seeing me. Later, he ran away from home to be with me once again. His parents gave up on him later and allowed us to be together again. Until I was pregnant and they could no longer ignore it. He ran to me and I showed him my drawing. Then, he whispered those words so softly…it described everything perfectly and I wrote it down in black ink next to my drawing.
After completing my drawing, I dropped down and lay still, on the floor. Willing my life to drain faster. Soon, I was in that special place between reality and dreaming. I was slowly slipping away into the abyss of dreaming and into that place where you would always exist. I see you now. You’re standing in front of me in a meadow. Giving me your hand and smiling. A few more seconds and we would be together forever. I open my eyes a little as I stare at my painting on the wall. The contrast of black and white. How stark. I glance at the words as I envision him whispering them to me. Mum, dad, I’m leaving now. I have to go…I have to go some place that will make me happy. And I can’t stay in reality anymore because it’s too painful. Perhaps you will never understand the true meaning of these words. But it’s okay. Remember when I was about 4 years old and the both of you were still happy? Both of you would look at me and say, honey, we love you so much. And I would reply, I love you too, mummy, daddy. I meant that. I didn’t lie. But then, I started growing up and by the time I was 12, the words were a lie. Just a simple sentence I would use casually to greet you. I miss the feeling of joy at meaning those words.
I feel the salty tears on my cheeks as I cried for the love lost. Not only between me and him but between me and the both of you. Of how my childhood was such a nightmare and how I could lose the love I thought would always last for my parents. I cried for all the matching white little outfits most of the children would have been embarrassed to wear but dear God, how I wanted to smile and giggle while looking like Mum. Of all the smiles and love I would never be able to experience. Of the stability I’ve craved all my life and how my life was such a car wreck. Of how could pure genuine love for me turn to love for money instead. How did it all lead to this? I did love you once, truly I did. Perhaps now, I still love you a little in some deep, far corner of my heart. But it’s also filled with such hatred and anguish, I feel almost torn apart. So, I hope you understand these words. I stare at the words for the last time. It would be the last thing I would see along with his face. Please understand. This heart has been tainted with love, broken with pain. I love you. Goodbye.


P.S. I just wanted to say that some time back, I wrote under the name of wintercrystals, so if anyone is intersted, my poems are there...please review so that I can improve in my writing and share the knowledge of what you think. Thank you.