The Double Edged Sword

On a sweet summer day a trip to the museum is planned with no purpose other than exploring history. How could I know the history was not to be in the museum, not preserved carefully in small glass boxes, on display for the world? I never planned, nor could I have expected to learn so many things and explore a rich history never documented.

I felt sick, the confusion creeping through my soul; the memories seeping through my mind. I was sure these feelings had had been diluted with the years that past and the new life I had forged. The double edged sword stabbed me in an unexpected manner; twisting in my heart and soul, causing a storm of turbulent confusion. I prepared myself to see his face, his beautiful sincere face. The face that housed the eyes that had always had an ability to peer into the depths of my soul, to places I had yet to explore out of sheer ignorance. Once composed, I stepped out of the shadows, only to realize the storm I had expected was much worse than I could have ever imagined. In a moment my foundation shook, my world spun around and began to collapse.

Reality and fantasy collided dangerously, while I stood with my back to the present, I explored the feelings I believed history had taken away. With my heart thumping I opened the door on the past, knowing my thoughts were only going to cause pain. As frosty and bitter as I attempted to be, the sincerity, the warm love melted away my exterior. I had been revealed once again and in an uncomfortable conversation, I agreed to meet with this confusion once more.

The second time was less nauseating. The amazement still choking clear thoughts, we hugged. The storm instantly worsened. Like warm and cool air colliding, a hurricane developed. In that moment, it was clear my life would never be the same. The double edged sword twisted, being pushed deeper; damaging forever the fragile heart I had spent so long mending. A kiss on my forehead completely blew me over, leaving me scattering after a disaster; wondering what one item I should save while I felt my entire life slip out of my grasp. The aftermath was terrible; even as he bent down to help me pick up the pieces, trying to help me put it all back together. The pieces would never, will never, fit back together again.

My vision has been blurred. My touch has softened. My tastes have changed. My hearing has gone fuzzy. The scent he leaves behind lingers. My thoughts are scrambled. I am lost in a world, with no guidance; struggling to understand, fighting to find the light; the answers. Like seasons I feel a change; if it were only for the colours to change, or the snow to fall, the flowers to spring, the sun to shine. I pull the sword out of my soul, covered in my blood. Blood drops fall free, thick deep red; the tears of my heart falling like the rain. Decisions must be made, but which ones are right? Three lives will change and I hold the key to all of the changes. I don’t mind a gamble, but one of this magnitude weighs heavily on my conscience. Holding the two keys, standing in front of the locked doors, I will place my hand on the door to feel the heat; I worry about unlocking it and having the back draft burn me. Who is my saviour, who holds my heart; a painful decade or interlude of joy? I fear there are no right answers and in the end I will be the injured one; lying among the flowers with the double edged sword in my heart.