It Is Sunday Morning
While everyone is asleep still, enjoying their respite from the yesterday’s bustle, I am wide awake. I let the hours pass by an occasional dreamless slumber.
I’ve been loved, hated, loved, hated, loved… And it always ends up the same. Never a cycle and my behavioral pattern abruptly ends at this point.
When it is Sunday morning, I am always like this kid back in the past waiting for the three o’ clock afternoon sun. How I like it up above; blistering, conducive to self-realization.
But I realize nothing but the solace of finding myself alone in the backyard just walking to and fro. Walking to and fro. Going nowhere.
Until I feel the heaviness of lifting the gate handle; watch it swinging behind me.
I am not leaving home. I will find another.
In your heart.
And most of all in my silence.
The very silence that will whisper to cross the street back and lock the gate; take a cigarette and watch people pass by.
Originally published on Friendster, 04 August 2007