Creative Writing, Musings

Last Words

I know a boy who won’t live long. Can’t forgive himself for ruining her song. Last words were harsh, ‘why do you sing that stupid song daily. I’m not a baby. You sound rubbish Okay?!’

He walked away, she knew she was dying. Her little man deserved joy for the time being and that’s why she sang, to soothe his heart.

She shut her mouth, sat down and cried. Her heartbeats slowed, then failed. She died.

I know a father who’s now stopped living. He’s alive on sight but dead inside. Guilt trips him up each time he sees it. Disgusting, it’s the word spat out with tension. Shunned his daughter for her choice of lover. Suicide’s what killed her but in his heart he shoved her.

I know a man who lost his mum.
Never lived it down because his one final word to her, was one too often used. Busy; “sorry mum, can’t come I’m really busy.”

“It’s okay my son.” She said and breathed out. She put the receiver down and within moments expired.

__

All around the world last words are being spoken, but when they are spoken the speaker is not aware that they are their last words.

Last words become important to the speaker once the reciever has died. They try to remember what the last conversation was and all too often, there are regrets.

Regret; because it could have been a kinder conversation, because it could have been other words used, because it didn’t need to be said. Because there should have been an apology.

It’s always those dearest to our hearts that receive the wrath of our anger,¬† because we love them and we know they love us. We become comfortable to say what we think and feel, sometimes regardless of how it’ll make the other person feel.

However, evidently, if it’s left unsolved and then they die, those last words may be haunting for the rest of life.

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Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Unspoken Words

And I’m banking on your capacity to read my mind and know how I feel about you.

I can’t read a mind to save myself and I don’t believe that telepathy is true.

But your response to what’s on my mind will determine how happy I’ll be.

How has this notion that you must be able to read my mind conceived?

It’s because I love you and I think you should know that’s true

And if you don’t then it’s not fate and we’re not meant to be.

Because maybe there’s a truer love to be found if I don’t make it with you,

And maybe they’ll read my mind and see my love for them is true.

But maybe I will get to that point in life and find that just like you,

They too could not read my mind, and thus my lunatic ideas would mean we’re through.

And then, all over again I’d start the wait,

In search for a love, I’d hope and pray that this time it’s not too late.

I’d be older and wiser and realise that I should have spoken my mind

Because there were words written on my heart to which you were faultlessly blind.

**

And thereafter, whatever happens I will go on living a regretful existence

But if I could wish for and be granted another life I would not bear such resistance.

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