The Cold Within …

Artwork by: Dorina Costras.

Artwork by: Dorina Costras.

She looked at him, eyes glistening with a barrier of shimmering tears, searched the hazy image of his face for any flicker of understanding, any sign of sympathy, kindness, even pity. But all her eyes hit against was a wall of ice, too tall, too impenetrable, too cold to be thawed by the fire burning inside her soul.

Her tears froze into cracked diamonds that pricked her eyes but refused to fall. Her heart turned into a heavy stone, void of feelings yet perched upon by mountains of melancholy and desperation. Her head was in denial, her mind in disbelief at how cruel the man she chose to partner for life was.

He was supposed to be her pillar, but how could she lean on someone who picked on her weaknesses, always shamed her for ever having them! Who demanded perfection as if it was a right she should never fall short at giving – all the time.

He was supposed to be her shelter, but how could she find warmth in a cold maze she was no longer able to figure out her way through, whose chilly walls have been closing against her ribs since forever, suffocating her!

He was supposed to be her mirror, her reflection, but how could she see herself in eyes that only dug for her flaws, and like a sun, too vicious, rose every day just to shine on them that she no longer believed in the goodness she thought had once dwelled in her.

She was slowly and quietly corroding inside, dying for a touch of warmth, a word of kindness, or a look of love that could bring back the life to her perishing tree; for her years in life have been falling off like leaves of a helpless tree in the face of the merciless wind of autumn.

All these thoughts raced through her mind like arrows of fire burning only through her, shouting only to her.
How much she wished he could listen, he could feel, he could calm her throes with one soothing word that’d make her, for once, feel important and valued! But again that was a wish that never made its way to a star to carry it through to heavens; it never came true.

He finally gave her his back and left her drenched in her own sad fate.

She feels so lonely now, most of the time cold, and in need. All what she’d missed, all what she couldn’t find in his heart, had been piling inside of her into a volcanic mountain of cravings, of unmet desires that could explode at any moment. And she knows that the outpouring lava would burn all her world down, turn everything she’d ever cherished, everything she’d ever had in life into lifeless ashes that would somehow stay to be a reminder of how she pitifully, miserably failed

to ever be loved.

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Jihad Mahmoud

A 29 year old young lady, a wife and a mother, a writer and a teacher, who found her life calling in writing. She breathes life in and gives life out through her words.

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