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All Broken Up by Ray Printer Friendly

The thing that really makes my soul ache is the feeling of wrongness that constantly batters my mind and my heart. “This isn’t the way things are supposed to be,” an innocent little voice whispers from behind my brain. I try to ignore it, but every time I fail to fill my mind with an over-abundance of thought, that little voice begins its whispered mantra, and continues to repeat it until it works itself into a frenzy. It shouts until my head throbs, and the memories flood into me like a waterfall into a paper cup.

With the memories comes the hurt, and with the hurt, more memories. The tide comes in—the tide of pain and memories and of things that should have been…things that should be.

The tide, the flood, the abundance, rolls down upon me, crashes down on me, crushes me.

Pig tails, morning smiles, wrinkled t-shirts that are sizes too big for her, wonderful smiles, the way she smells when she steps out of the shower. Putting hot sauce on everything she eats, the way she looks so gorgeous when she washes dishes or watches TV.

So many things, so many things. How could I ever not love her? How could I have ever kept from falling in love with her?

It’s a stupid question because of the answer: there is no way that I could have stopped myself from falling for her.

More memories.

Dancing in the rain with the woman that has stepped from my dreams and into the mud puddles, her laughter drowning out the thunder, her smile dimming the angry flashes of lightening. Hiding on the roof from the world, watching the sun pull itself over the edge of the world. Sleeping next to her and never fearing my dreams.

I smelled her hair once more before she walked away—I had to—and it smelled like a piece of paradise. It smelled of hope, of dreams, of salvation, and of love. It reminded me that I was losing all of that. I stepped back, the dirty scent of the city filling my nose once more, and she smiled a sad smile at me.

“I’ll catch you later,” she said.

She turned and walked away, joining the masses. Millions of people that couldn’t give a damn about me, and I couldn’t help noticing how smoothly she moved with them. “I’ll be falling,” I whispered, as she left my life.


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