I put her on a weighing scale

Berthe Morisot by Edouard Manet, 1872

reaching me in waves of familiarity, for 

my mind to pay homage, to the voices of

the pink lips and maroon, that move in

undecipherable languid curves,

accentuated by the rapidly blinking eyes,

the two orbs that I was looking for,

for so long, they kindle my heart with

a flame, and make me blind by their sheen,

I try to wave away her beams, that surround

me into an enclosure of rapture, of pain,

my hands tremble, my toes freeze by her sight,

as I know when she apprehends me curiously,

.

which I do as well, but only by coy glimpses

to determine on the weighing scale, difference

of who she was, and who she is today,

she laughs at me, she laughs with me, but

nothing could hide my gloom of understanding,

she is no more the one she was, neither am I

the one of the past, she nods, she smiles,

breaking me into pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,

“Goodbye”, she says, shaking my right hand

with her left, then right, leaving me in

search of those pieces to adjoin, and find

my picture again, without, but in her gaze

7 thoughts on “I put her on a weighing scale

  1. Very wonderfully crafted, HA. I enjoyed the tonality and the dictate of words, it felt like a perfect read for a rainy day with a cup of tea. My favourite part:”

    which I do as well, but only by coy glimpses

    to determine on the weighing scale, difference

    of who she was, and who she is today,”

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  2. dunno but this makes me think of dementia… when you don’t recognize someone any more… but then…can happen without sickness as well just by changing and developing in completely different directions

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  3. HA, sounds to me like a painful end of a relationship. These lines are especially moving:

    “she nods, she smiles,

    breaking me into pieces of a jigsaw puzzle”

    and I can only imagine just how awful this would feel!

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