We carried the onus of gloom, of a dying October, of silence draped over rot and decay. We were cold and had tried, we had lied. but there was nothing to keep us from drifting apart. What are the roots that clutch? What branches grow out of this stony rubbish.
Where had we gone?
It was 3PM when you finally spoke:
“Do you want milk with your coffee?”
I looked at you, surprised.
“No coffee, I’m going out for while”
You sighed as you knew that I knew.
It had started to rain again, but I didn’t return until past dusk..
You had left me a note but I already knew what it said..
I drank my coffee cold as October walked through the rooms you had left leaving muddy footsteps on the hardwood floors you always had wanted.
Was this ending another beginning?
Mish host prosery tonight at dVerse, and has selected a line from T.S. Eliot “The Wasteland”: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”. This took me deep into a depressive state. I wonder if April really is the cruelest month…
October 11, 2021