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Part II

• Part two

Don’t hate me for who I am today

As I am the collection of my yesterdays

They walk with me like a shadows

Ominously dark



• Semblance

I never like mirror because they said it is the only object will reveal you true self. I grew up with having any, because my mother have never let me.

Out of curiosity, I begged my mother for a flor mirror on my birthday. She was agitated at first but I tired my best to change her mind.

The next day, I came home to a flor mirror in my bedroom.

That day, I saw myself washed in red with a harmer in my hand.

For the first time in my life, I figured out who who I really am and I never heard my mother ever again.

• A Cry For Help

Summer is my most awaited season of the year, I can feel the orange-like sunrays with the touch of warmth that tingles my skin. Is the only season when I can both mingle with the sun and wind and be more productive at work. Summer is still my favorite season, even though I have to curry more weights on my shoulder.

Apart from that, summer is the only time I long for the warmth from the family I’ve been living with. Only on summer, they spent most of their time being outside. I love to see them together all cuddled up in harmony.

I love how they work together to do the house vhouser every single day, without the need of additional helping hands. I just to love watch the little one thing getting his hand on it too, even though he sometimes play in the puddle instead of weathering the flower.

I am happy to be apart of it, even though I only get to see them on daylight. A guess they have a different choser to do on the night time, but maybe it does not to take much of their time since they turned down of the lights long before midnight. Happiness beams out of their face everyday. But I never though that I won’t last for long.

This summer, they let the grass grown into a thin to tall uneven tuft.

The sprinkle went off, beach chair left folded and the windows shut closed. I have been wondering what are they up to these days, cause I feel like Im at the loose end. The mother looks so wron out every time she went outside, as if she forgotten how to smile. One in a while she came to hung a few light weights of my shoulder, sometimes she even have nothing to hang at all.

I wonder how many clothes left they have in the drawer. I figured the little one has just stared elementary from the school attrie that they regularly hang on my shoulder.

The next day I learned they’ve hired a helping hand to took care the house, maybe because the chorses is to hard for the.

I rerely see bare little feet running around the backyard lately from the time his mother caught his furiously beating pigeons with slingshot and burying newborn kittens alive

The shift in this family made me no longer be the witness of their perfect life. Up to the one particular night.

My question mark have turned into a number of exclamation mark, it was when I heard a loud noise, muffled sound of crying, shooting, crushing all mixed one. Since that happened I never witnessed the family living inside the house. I cane to realized it was the call of my retirement.

Ever since that night, I have never felt so alone the days seem to get dullet as it goes by. I felt my self turning into a stiff and eroded figure. I am let alone until the group policeman come to stretched a yellow line outside of the house. Followed by the little one shouting furiously to the criping birds on the three.

“Die!!! Rhonda Die!!” And shoot them to death with a slingshot in his hands.

• The Third Round

They say home is where the heart is

They say home is made of love and dreams

They say it’s always good to be back home

Yes. What they said is true. It felt truer than true when you greeted me with a bouquet of my favorite roses, wine, and your signature home-cooking dish. You have been binge watching romance movies was my very first guess as you cast that alluring smile on your face.

“It’s our day, love”

Yes. I remembered that clearly, love. 3rd of March, Our 3rd Anniversary, 9 years ago.

As much as I remembered clearly when her name flashed on your screen, spoiled you with her caring sweet words, right before you kissed me goodnight. Our very last kiss of goodnight.

Since then, coming home have never been the same.

“Happy 3rd Anniversary, honey!”

It’s that time of the year again.

Another 3rd round, another celebration, sweet surprises, gifts, home-cooking dish, glasses of wine, kisses, and another remembrance of eternal pain.

It’s the same old routine, same old celebration. But I like it like that.Or can I say, I insisted to be like that. It must be.

Coming home on the 3rd of March for me is fate, not choice.

Coming home on the 3rd of March for me is never without plan.

Coming home on the 3rd of March for me is the only time to bury the pain.

The pain that had left a huge hole in my heart, nine years ago.

The infinite pain that I’m unable to eliminate, even after the third man to date.

The third date that have made it to the third round.

The third date that is now standing tall right before my eyes.

The third date that I am going to bury.

Tonight, after his kiss of goodnight.

It’s about time to eliminate the pain along with everything that reminded me of it.

And after that, it is about time to meet the 4th

And coming home again on the 3rd of March, 3 years later.

It’s always good to be back home, where everything is buried.


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  • Author: wing
  • Published: 2016-09-17 02:40:07
  • Words: 5798