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March 23, 2014

A brilliant writer.  I can’t help that she writes about me, sometimes.  It’s all a beautifully written fairytale, and she does it so well.  The woman is my inspiration, and with her limited understanding, makes my tears fall like rain.  I am going to fisk her, but not out of anger or irritation, just from gentle correction and admiration.

 

She couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was just to great. Tears streamed down her face and splashed on her pillow. Oh the agony! She missed him so. She missed the feel of his arms wrapped around her. She missed his smile, his laugh, his voice. She missed the feel of her head on his chest and the gentle rise of fall of it as he was breathing. The memories were relentless and stabbed at heart over and over again. Old wounds were reopened and new ones made as thoughts of him haunted her. Oh what she wouldn’t give to feel safe and loved like that just one more time.
But life had taught her well and she would forever close that door. Never again would she subject herself to such heartache. So she dried her eyes, cuddled her pillow and prayed that tomorrow would be a better day…
Cheryl Lynn

 

The warmth of the tears on her pillow were the only real comfort she felt.  She cried alone, not missing anyone at all, but taking refuge in the latest opportunity to grow stronger in her own convictions.  Grieving that there would no longer be any safety or protection from any other, but comforted in knowing that with each hurt, she could gather the strength to go on alone.  With each hint of opportunity to be vulnerable, came the horrible realization that her desires represented mere weakness in her spirit that had yet to be conquered.  Any passing second where she had cause to think she was too hard, too guarded or too cold rewarded her with a new unquenchable fountain of reasons why she could only draw strength from within herself.  The heartbeat of a lover, the sweet words spoken, were only harbingers of pain yet to come.  Each one meant only to prepare her for the greater pain to come from allowing any emotion to creep into her soul.  In the sadness, came great strength, and she built the walls of her fortress higher and higher.  The comfort of the warm wet tears on the pillow gave her cause for joy that could come only from within.

That, Dear Cheryl, is who I am….

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One Comment
  1. peregrinejohn permalink

    Lifters like to say that pain is just weakness leaving the body. Reassuring and all, but I have doubts. Still, I’ll take the comfort the saying gives.

    For what it’s worth, I like your version better. Rings truer.

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