Happiness resonates

Happiness is a strangely quantified thing;

characteristics are inexplicable contractions of the facial muscles resulting in what is known as a smile,

and the feeling of lightness, rising through your chest and cutting through tensions that so weighed you down before.

Is it not strange? That we quantify emotion as something so tangible, so concrete?

But then again, if emotions are not absolute,

what is?

Because everything is only absolute if we make it so.

Happiness is not something that transcends, but rather resonates.

Inexplicably it’s scale can be told as we radiate it.

But then again, how can others tell when we radiate an emotion? Can that, as a hologram might,

be falsely projected?

No.

Not now.

Now, i refuse to quantify this emotion that i am feeling.

Because, for a long time now,

i have not felt this, the kind of emotion that resonates so strongly that no attempt at suppression works.

Happiness.

You’ve touched me

You’ve touched me, do you know that?

No, not physically; never, for you’ll never bend the rules that far.

But in here, where it matters.

You’ve touched my heart.

I’ve seen you before, fleeting, flighty passes in the corridors when i was still in the dark throes of my own confusion. I was drawn to you even then, i think, in a way i had not known before.

I respected you even before i knew you.

But when we got to know each other, i was thrown once again, by new emotions; it just had to be you, didn’t it? Had to be you who made life so difficult.

I knew i loved you, but i did not know what to make of that raw emotion.

Love.

All at once i was afraid of it’s tempestuous nature, it’s loving caress of a sting; yet i was basking in the happiness i felt in your presence, true happiness i had not felt for a long time.

You’ve touched me.

You’ve made me realise what balance was, over time. And through simply observing you, observing you in your actions, so calculated sometimes, yet free and exuberant at others; i came to realise that love was the rawest of emotions, but even the harshest aspects of the human heart can be tamed.

Thus i drew back, content on building a friendship. There were times when i felt it, too, was in jeopardy, as we drifted apart, no longer meeting physically on a regular basis, but somehow we always managed to salvage it.

And i am infinitely thankful for that.

To this day, you remain an enigma to me.

I do not know what you think, nor do i desire to know; nay, i am far past that stage. I am content, honored, humbled, that you find me significant enough to retain a correspondence with.

Many a time i recall when we had travelled together; with others, of course. I observed you, as has become my habit. Your youth does not abound your wisdom; nor does it hide your compassion.

Watching you, silently, as you gamboled with children not your own, i was astounded once again at how young you actually were. Your normal persona seemed so stern, so domineering; i have oft questioned your need for it, that stiffness in public, that unyielding mask of decorum.

Decorum.

It’s your favourite word, is it not?

You’ve touched me.

I yearn for the day where you can, at last, cast away that mask of yours, as i have willingly shed mine. I’ve let you in, do you know that? I have shared with precious few others what i have shared with you; time and again you surprise me with your lack of emotion. It seems you are governed more by logic. Perhaps it is that words may not convey to me your true intent.

But it doesn’t matter.

I have seen your true nature. That compassion, the sheer kindness that comes from your heart.

Your selflessness in your care of others.

And for that, i respect you, love you, thank you.

For all you have done, for all you have been, for all that you are.

You’ve touched me.

Hello and Goodbye (good morning)

every morning, a fleeting smile,

halfhearted waves as feet make familiar

way to silver doors.

willingly opening wide, yawning,

to admit both of them

the beginning of a day’s toil

marked by the brief passing

of a youth’s broken grin.

wishing in voices still tempered by sleep

(steeped in midnight)

a good morning to you.

Dancing Cheek To Cheek

The green doors swung open to admit me. Not that i was the only one entering that night. Dozens of my contemporaries; seniors too. I had deliberately held off arriving till the last minute, for i did not want to face reality.

The reality that i had to leave this bal masque; leave this life that i had been bitter at.

(To leave her)

Sure, there were happy moments. Crystalline moments that lingered. Trapped within those everlasting crystals were memories. Memories of affections nursed.

(Memories of her.)

Presently my entrance was subdued; yet attention was drawn to me. Still i held my head high. Whispers swept the vaulted ceilings but not once did i heed them. Silently i marched on, tolerating the burning gazes under those jewelled masks. My resolve was unshaken. Halting at last i reached the corner of the hall. Darkness swallowed me, segregating me from the glitter and gold that was the masquerade. Silver slivers of moonlight slithered through the slits in the window, throwing harsh bars at my feet.

Strains of music drifted my way; what shallow foppery it was, for i listened not to the music my contemporaries did. My own features twisted into a scowl. I would not have my own person insulted such; and so i turned to leave even my fondest memories behind; turned from the scorn piping ever so gallantly from the speakers.

“Don’t go.”

As painfully and as keenly as a knife blade, her voice murmured out of my own exile to me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, for she was so close i could feel her hot breath upon my bared skin. I dared not cast my gaze backwards.

The distance between my exile and the mellow, free night was minuscule. Flight was an option, but she held me back.

(Held me back with everything yet nothing)

“Don’t go.”

She spoke again, and i felt her warm presence move into the cold moonlight. She was faceless in the shadow; yet eyes brighter than mine glimmered with unshed tears; I closed my own. Even sightless i could sense her staggered breathing, her tense pulse. I stepped back; back into shadow; withdrawing into the velvet night. I had hoped she would’ve given up, but nay; she advanced as i retreated, such that i now found myself trapped in the very corner i had chosen to hide in; an irony i never dreamed would’ve happened.

Still, she knew to keep her distance till i broke. Only once had i ever broken in front of her; even then it was under a different circumstance, and she had understood, cradling me against her in the private of a copse of willow trees by the pond. Then she had seen me as no more than an ordinary person, no more, no less. But all that changed when i thought i at last had her trust; thought that it was time to tell her the complete and bitter truth.

All at once she seemed to understand;but my glowing hope was snuffed out when she spoke once more.

“I know what you’re feeling, my dear. Trust me, the feeling’s more than mutual, but our differences…It’s just not possible. I’m sorry.”

And that was it;that was her cold dismissal of my feelings for her;the banishment that drove me to exile. The next two years passed as a grey streak;decorum dictated that we both ignored the incident and treated each other as we should have.

Yet now she stood patiently before me, want lingering ever so slightly. Thus i broke again, folding myself into her waiting arms;gleaming white masque marred by dark trails of salt.

“Do you remember what you said two years ago?”

I whispered it against her shoulder. She said nothing, merely nodded and reached up to card her fingers through my hair.

“And do you still hold true to it?”

“I do,” she whispered back.

And with that, her hold on me changed.

Gently she slid her left arm about my waist, seizing my left with her right. She held her limbs loosely, and ignoring the treacherous music we could still hear faintly, she began to sing.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven…

and my heart beats so that i can hardly speak..

And i seem to find the happiness i seek,

when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek…”

And indeed i found the happiness i had craved for two years past. Pressed against my once-cold cheek was her own, warming it; breathing life into me. A smile blossomed upon my lips as i felt the gentle vibrations of her contralto voice reverberate through my own chest; giving in to temptation i willingly tightened my grip upon her, swaying to the tune she was singing.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven,

and the cares that hung about me through the week…

Seem to vanish like a gambler’s lucky streak…

When we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek…”

 

Slowly, as her voice grew stronger through the song, she guided our steps out of the shadow. We had reached the line between the golden floor and my own shadowed hell. Tarrying a little she leaned back so as to gaze into my eyes. In them i knew she saw the confirmation she needed, for she then stopped singing, and tugged gently so that we were in plain view of everyone.

Everyone else seemed to be a dervish of reds and blues and golds and greens; it seemed as though she were the only one in white, and i the only one in black (and in a black suit, no less). With her, i cared no longer for the crowds that had once jeered me, mocked me. Caution sailed gracefully into the deep night, and i chastely touched my lips to hers, pale meeting crimson. She responded in kind, and as we swayed carefully to the melody we alone composed, i found myself wishing my endless night to end; for i wanted to spend sunlit days with her, crafting ever more perfect tunes to dance to, songs that only we could hear.

“I want my arms about you
That those charms about you
Will carry me through…
right up to heaven, I’m in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we’re out together dancing, out together dancing (swinging)
Out together dancing cheek to cheek”

 

 

 

 

Marred By Marriage

Now that she’s married, I don’t know what to do. Every time I walk past her, my gaze is drawn to her right hand, where that simple platinum band seems to mock me. That band of surety and comfort, that someone else has placed upon her hand. I didn’t even have the right to touch that hand. What more did he?

 

I wonder now, as I gaze upon her face, if that smile is true. We remain apart, obviously, as mannerisms dictate. She is using her right hand more often now, I think. Has she guessed it yet? Has she noticed my wistful gaze following that straying hand as it makes it trajectory through the air, as it snaps back momentarily to sweep her bangs away?

 

I know I have perfected the art of keeping coherent speech going while observing everything else. Every detail, exactly as I see and hear. Some I commit to memory, others I discard to my brain’s natural recycling bin, ready to resurface at random moments to make me smile.

 

Presently I choose to stay on neutral ground, speaking in calm tones, masquerading so I could hide my own emotions. We were seated at a secluded spot beneath the sycamore trees. It had been a popular place once before, but now it was as deserted as the grave and I had brought her there once when I had wanted a private word, as i have now.

 

Quietly curious, i asked about a project i had requested to join in, drawing a chuckle from her.

“Eager now, are you? You know, i really find it strange…Very few people your age would choose to even bother about the plights of others in their own country, much less about those in Tibet.”

I blushed politely and chose to say nothing, letting her continue on her spiel.

“Well, i’m glad to say that you’re the only one who passed all the interviews and all. Not that it would’ve been any trouble, considering your record.” That sentence was punctuated by a fond pat on the back. I shied away a little, but nevertheless welcomed the small accolade.

Awkwardly she drew back, owing to the fact we were seated side by side. Sighing a little, she stretched out her legs, flexing her muscles. Following that she laced her fingers together and stretched forward, thrusting her hands into the sunlight.

To my abject horror i found my eyes being drawn toward the ring once more, and this time i wasn’t the only one. She pulled back, and lovingly carressed her right hand with her left, stroking the shackle that man had bound her to him by.

“My dear…May i ask your permission to be my confidante, just for one day?” I nearly didn’t catch her murmur;I was far too busy glowering at her right hand. It was only the uncertain note in her voice that made me resume the mask, and smile reassuringly at her.

“Anything, just make sure i get extra credit!” Falsely i smiled. It was obvious that this was my only chance at advancing my relation with her.

“Always the cheery one, aren’t you.? Well. To be honest i have a confession to make. But now, before me, swear that you won’t tell a soul, for this is something that is killing me softly, tearing me apart.”

I looked long and hard at her for a while, gazing truthfully for the first time in to her eyes. It was different now; different from the first time i set eyes upon her; different from the persona she projected. In her dark orbs i saw emotions never before fathomed.

I never thought her capable of being truly sorrowful. Remorseful, perhaps, but never able to commit to such emotion. She met my eyes squarely, living up, at least, to her bold public nature, albeit more emotionally.

“I swear.”

My voice had fled, leaving me with nothing more than a strangled rasp. She was the one who broke the gaze; to this day i know not if it was the brilliant sunshine that i saw, or true tears glazing her eyes over.

A moment of composure; a heartbeat of uncertainty. It was all she took. “Carpe Diem”, she had always fondly said.

“I take for granted the fact that you know i recently got married. I also take for granted that you know who my husband is.” The piercing eyes turned back to stare at me, telling me so much through a simple gaze; telling me that she did not blame me; telling me she did not object to this act of intrusion. Unbidden– for i had thought myself a better master of my own emotions –a flush rose to my cheeks.

Even more unwelcome was the identity that i had just placed; her husband. I bit back the angry retort clawing itself free of my throat; it would not do me well to speak ill of him now.

With nary a blink, she continued. “Well, herein lies the problem. It shames me to speak of such abandon, but neither of us did mention heirs during our courtship.”

I believed her. I have always believed her.

The shame shone through; the highlighted bangs swept forward to hide her face; she had lurched forward to cradle her head in her hands. Silently i observed her, still held thrall by my emotions.

An oriole sang its song in the trees, and upon the warm winds carried the twittering of its chicks. Distracted, my gaze roved the nearby willow trees, questioning the gust that disturbed nature so.

It was the clatter of her glasses upon the floor that burst open the floodgates, for when i looked hurriedly back at her, she was shaking.

The breath in my throat hitched. Ironically the first thing my twisted mind processed was how beautiful she still looked, despite her emotions, for she was her. Instinctively i abandoned my seat, slithering down to the ground to kneel before her. The gravel tore open my knees, but i pesevered and reached hesitantly for her hands.

They were wet, but only slightly so. As gently as i could, i pulled them from her face and held them. Not for the first time she looked straight at me. This time it was i who dropped my eyes. I took her right hand in my left, brushing my fingers once over the ring. A single teardrop fell on my wrist. It slid silently down and onto the ground, but unmoving i held myself.

If time was what she desired, then time she would get.

Once more, a deep, shuddering breath was all she took.

“I can’t have any children.”

The line was uttered with such misery; with such terible finality. Crashing waves of pity first thudded into me, such that i released her hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so a shell she now adopted, for she had taken to hugging herself, sobbing great, silent sobs. With great difficulty i sat down and let my knees come up. Gravel and blood were caked upon them, and they momentarily distracted me from her.

This revelation seemed to hit her as well, stilling her tears.

“Wha-I-Yo-We have to get your knees cleaned…” Her voice wavered uncharacteristically as she spoke. The declaration jolted me back, reminding me exactly who the authority was in this situation.
“Can you stand?” Those eyes, those deep, dark eyes…They met mine and implored me, and i obliged. Grasping the cold stone bench, i heaved. The cuts burst open again, shedding blood over my gravel-encrusted knees.

Slowly, gently, she eased me to a agonising limp. I was a lot taller than her, and assuredly heavier. Supporting me was no easy feat, and thus i cringed inwardly as her laboured breathing became more ragged as we went on. Conscious as i was of her breathing, even more so was i of her right hand, curled tightly around my waist to stop me from falling(i could feel the ring,bruising my flesh ever so slightly from her death grip) My left arm was draped across her back, and in this fashion we laboured across the courtyard to the office.

Later on, i sat in the foyer, crimson bandages adorning my knees. She resumed her mask, and called my parents, asking them to pick me up. Our eyes had me only once after that, and even then, all i saw were empty holes, bored through with the normal blankness decorum so called for. We sat side by side, but although she kept her face turned away from me, her thigh pressed lightly against mine. I could feel her body tense, and before long became acutely aware of what the jerking movements she was making were.

She was prying the ring from her finger, then shoving it back down again.

Alarmed at the skin that was peeling from her rigorous actions, my gaze flew to her face. Once more, i sought her gaze, but all i saw was emptiness. All she had was pain, caused by so little, yet destroying so much.

I rose, wincing as i did so. My parents had arrived. Not knowing what to say, i uncertainly turned to her.

“I’m really sorry…I swear i will never tell what i know, i swear upon my life.And..well, yeah.I’m just really sorry about everything…” It was all i managed to choke out. Awkwardly i took her left hand, dragging it away from her maimed right. Trembling i raised it to my lips, and turned to go.

Turned to walk away from her.

(one i had come to respect and love so)

Turned to erase my memories.

(ones that i should have taken to the grave)

Turned to forget my feelings.

(feelings that now torment me as hers do)

Something warm and hard pressed into my left hand. Unkowingly i accepted it, for i knew it was from her. Halting, i looked at it.

It was her wedding ring. Dripping, dripping, dripping.

Dripping, with her blood.

And so, as i walked away from her, i slid the ring onto my own finger, where it had fit as well as it had fit her. Her blood seemd to make the ring come vividly to life, as though the diamond set in it were a ruby, pulsing with her lifeblood.

I wear the ring to this day.

She was forever scarred, destroyed by the false security that was marriage, the gilded cage that imprisoned her.

She was marred by marriage.