She

It seems like yesterday when I'd fallen in love with her. She was always there, right in front of me, laughing her heart out at my poor humor, smiling in response to my senseless rattling. When the nights used to get cold and dark, I helplessly watched her weep. My helplessness, triggered by my inability to reach her, physically and emotionally. An invisible barrier made me unable to embrace the pain that she felt deep inside.

After surviving her emotional storms, she shone like the early morning sun in the dawn. She made me dread the nights, nights which awakened her pain and exploited my helplessness to console her.

On one night, she was weeping her heart out and like always I tried reaching out to her with my hands stopping at a distance. I waited for her eyes to meet mine and when that happened, her teary eyes tried talking out to me. She hesitantly raised a finger at something behind me. I stepped aside to see a dark figure hiding in the mist, somewhere ahead. Suddenly I saw her running towards the dark figure. She stood in front of the dark figure and began weeping. The figure remained as still as a limestone idol.

I noticed the bubble around her reflecting light. I realized my inability to reach her. For she was a prisoner, sentenced because she loved a worthless man with all her heart.

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