A thousand and one stories #29 A man’s confession to Death

man confession

Every time I look at you. Every time you don’t look back. I think you could be what I need.

All these times I see you cradling a babe in your arms, picking up an old man when he falls, so gently, so silently, you come and go. I want you to come and never go.

It’s been ages I watch you from the corner of my eyes. You’ll shy away if I try to hold you, such is my luck. The one you want most must always stay away. The aching, it never does go away. I lie here shattered on the ground waiting for your kind touch to fill me with peace. There’s an innocence in your face. No one understands it but me.

Why did you never grace me with your presence? Haven’t I tried enough to get your attention? But you brush me by inattentively, passing on to hug the next passerby. I don’t like seeing you take everyone away. You’re supposed to be here. Next to me.

Oh but when you do come, you won’t understand the joy in my heart, the pleasure of your aura mixing in with mine, that’s what it means to be completely intertwined. And I see you. Yes, I do. I like nobody else. My eyes seek you out when everyone else just pretends to not see, to not feel to not embrace you wholeheartedly.

Such musings do I have occasionally. A man’s confession to death should never be this silly.

 

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