strife

and so when i woke-up this morning, i stifled an ache that was beginning to rise, like it does everytime my eyes open. even in the middle of the night, it's the ache that follows my wakefulness. today was just another of those mornings, folding the quilts-up and putting the pillows back where they belong. looking at the walls, trying to figure whether the solitude is my bliss or an excuse. it's followed by coffees, teas, and a bite, the humming of a desktop- and sometimes the UPS tweeting when the load-shedding comes on.

i can't draw the curtains open to see the sky because it's interrupted by tall buildings and i live so close to the ground. sometimes, there's longing for the sky, the moon. sometimes for you, who promised to be with me, sharing in my solitude and sins.

but i must get on with the day, carry your words when i turn the keys in the locks, walk out on to the streets, jump buses and take elevators up and down work.
it's actually a nice way of finding myself again, if i run your words in my head over and over, then i know there's something in me that still makes sense despite the silence that replaces us. if i replay your words, i know it can even teach me to be brave about Aki not being my daughter.