Silence and Tears

They knew not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well
Long long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell...

On a whim, I google his name to see what comes up, this old flame who's been in the news. I flick through the articles, the blog entries, the whole apparatus of his notoriety, and shudder.

I guess he was always weird. I just never realised how weird. When something is not quite quite, when the music is sweet but discordant, take note. It will play itself out sooner or later. And you can either brace yourself or plug your ears and run for cover.

The seeds were already there. But then, he was a no-account and it didn't matter how loud he shouted. Nobody heard cos nobody listened cos nobody cared.

But now....

I read an article he wrote recently and feel the weight of negativity settle gently on my shoulders like an shawl of sackcloth. It itches. It's uncomfortable. I fidget and squirm. I throw it off.

He's not a prophet. He's not God. He just thinks he is.

Sighing, I sip my brew of the day and bite into my apple doughnut with the creamy centre and dream of Corica apple strudel. And listen to Michael Buble's Crazy Love yet again.

I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track...

And suddenly I wish I was still talking to our one mutual friend so I could ask her, have you heard about ...and she would say yes...and we would both sigh and let the silence grow between us, encompassing all complications, half truths, hard edges, broken glass, coffee grounds, rotten vegetables.

We wouldn't have to say much. There is nothing to say.

And if I should meet thee
after long years
how should I greet thee?
With silence...

And tears.