Oblivion

 

     Oblivion Brings No Solace

The wind was whistling through the trees, while twilight cast shadows on the grave in front of her. For 30 years she’s been coming here every year when the autumn winds start to sing the song of a loss to her heart. All this time she was wondering just one thing — If he hadn’t left that night, if she hadn’t insisted, would her life have played out differently? She knew the answer to that, but she dared not to go down that path.

They said it was a robbery, he was missing his wallet and the sports bag he was carrying. Two stab wounds to the chest, and by the time he was brought to the emergency room it was to late. White roses and just one red were laid on his grave that day. Deep inside, she blamed herself. If only she hadn’t begged for him to go home, but stayed in his arms for a little while longer. She couldn’t cry, not one tear for months, and then it all came out in streams of tears and sleepless nights, delusions and hard drugs. She was admitted to a hospital for six months, and was never the same after that.

Life passed in a haze of crimson mixed with black. Every time she would dive into the arms of a stranger, searching for a touch, and a kiss so long missed, it would leave her with a bad taste, but she couldn’t stop. These were men, gentle and kind, who fell in love with who she was — a beautiful rose, that bloomed too soon, under the pail moon, was struck by a frost, unexpected and harsh.

She tried, so many times to forget him, to let go but the only thing she came to realize was that oblivion holds no solace, just despair of a broken life and of tears never cried.