Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Empty pipe

Standing on the edge of the cliff, she smoked the ginger pipe and blew clouds at the dark sky. The wind blew her hair back and the moon stared at her tear ridden face. She stood awhile, counting stars, blowing more smoke at the vacuum, at the vacuum in her heart and the vacuum in the dark. She wondered what the next step would feel like, a cold sharp fall or a warm trickling relief from the pains of the world. Tough call? She stepped away from the edge, the pipe burning its last. Either she can refill it or throw it away forever.

4 comments:

J said...

something's not right here~
why?

Rachita Bansal said...

the nomad is leaving the abode behind and throwing the pipe away

zephyr said...

Love hurts. Love scars. And when it all ends you feel empty. Devoid of huge chunks of what made you you for a short while.
When it all disappears... And someone declares they were sure of you and then became doubtful of everything about you, You feel a little let down by your own personality.

Loved the words RAchita. Somehow alot of what you write is sometimes alot of what I feel. That makes it so damn special.

Rachita Bansal said...

Zep: you and i are the same people in so many ways, we feel love and pain in a manner removed from the order of the world.. cheers kiddo!