Wolves are howling tonight. There is a storm brewing. Infinite shadows playing in my hands. I need to escape this isolation somehow. Open the knots of this mess, this web. Untangle, unfurl, smoothen, stretch. Infuriating are his words. On days, he appears to see past me. Like piercing my halo of self and focusing on a point beyond me. Anger swells up, at such nonchalance. What if I shattered his curtain of indifference demanding attention? What if I showed that I cared? The wolves don't seem to stop. The howls, screeching me to attention. I said I need him to look into me, at me and not beyond, not further. Why is it so very hard? The wind is uprooting roots somewhere far. And one by one I am letting go of my fingers, clutching this farce of love. So tightly that the depressions are bleeding. Open wounds of rejection, inattention, disinterest and passivity. The ever expanding shadows of his absence from my reality. Shadows of a man I call my own yet who doesn't belong.
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