I miss you, I need you.
Music blasts into her ears, funneled into her brain from electric blue earbuds
Sweat is pouring down her back, her neck, her face; dripping and flicking onto the mats
Mirrors, mirrors every where
Shadows, shadows flicker
One light burns in the doorway; lighting the way should anyone stumble upon her refuge
The windows are blocked with shutters. No one can see
No one should see
Leaning her forehead against leather, crazy smiles, laughing, crying
What is she doing?
Drawing her fist back she slams it into the punching bag, again
And again
And again
out of breath, gasping, hair sticking out in crazy direction, she swipes a hand across her forehead and leans with an arm around the object of her punishing.
In this little slice of heaven she can do what she wants, act as she wants, be who she wants. In the dark no one can see her; judge her.
Only, perfect is not so perfect
There seems to always be something missing
In this blissful solitude she can be who she wants but the people she loves are not here
What to do, what to do?
She pushes the bag like a pendulum
Back and forth it swings
And again she hits
-Meghan
4 comments:
My interpretation of this is based on my own experiences, and I connect with it in a way that makes me feel completely human and strong. Incredibly strong.
Sincerely,
Sarah
(And you're not always emo, but my rant did get you to write.)
Dearest one. I miss you.
i like your way of venting, but it makes me wish i were there. there to hold the punching bag in place while you pummel it, there to dodge out of the way of your fist, just there in general. damn it i miss you.
jasmine
Yeah. Beat it. Just beat it (beat it) whoo.
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