CONFUSION.

there’s a time that resulted in confusion.

she knows it.

she acknowledges, quite obviously, the best of her: of her life, of her existence, of her personality. she knows that he was the reason: for her smiles, for her tears, for her emotions, for her.

he made the songs make sense and the fairytales reality. he made her smile when she was devastated and laugh when she was crying. he kissed away her tears and smoothed out her knots.

he was hers, just as she was his. they never belonged with each other; no, they belonged to each other. they were perfect, incredible, on fire.

now, though, that time is over. he is not hers, and she belongs to memories.

his smiles.

his laughter.

his tears.

his assurances.

his impression.

which of them can she believe, now, looking back?

she longs to hate him. she longs for him. who she had; was it him?

confusion.

she belongs to confusion now. it owns her as he once did. what does she want now? she couldn’t tell you.

one thing.

one thing she could tell you, as she sits surrounded by the rain of confusion: of all the lies, ‘i love you’ was her favorite.


[9.18.2009]