literature

cirrus boy

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Literature Text

dear cirrus boy
i'm not going to pretend that i understand or even have an empty hand for you to hold on to; i've stopped lying now, like you wanted me to. i understand nothing, to be sincere, but starting from the beginning would be foolish, as it all originated from the end.

the end.
i never understood how your mother could leave you without a goodbye; from what you told me, she even missed out on hello. and i don't understand how you didn't cry when she told you that her tumor was outgrowing her heart, but that it never would outgrow you. i would have shed tears in the hope of them dying and getting reborn into something stronger; anything that didn't spell cancer. when the first prognosis came, you were panting harder than your chest could bear. and i remember i couldn't hear if you were laughing or trying to suppress tears, but i knew that inside you were a wounded animal.

but a compass will only lead us north
the signs were obvious, and you were a blind guider without a direction. i remember that june evening when i first spoke to you; i told you not to stare too hard at the sun. do you realize now, that that's not how to get brighter times?

the day clouds sank faster than lead
the water rippled before the wave crashed - i feel like we've got it all backwards.
love,
the sunshine that passed through everything but you
cirrus - type of cloud that [normally] lets sunlight through.

fiction or non-fiction? somewhere in between.
i'm also wondering why there is life stories but not death stories. it's not clear to me.

my entry for [link]
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ShamelessDaydreamer's avatar
i saw this in the box on Miss-Deathwish's page, and i have to say i'm very glad i've stumbled upon you. you're wonderful.