Too tired to cry

She didn't know what to do. She had been sold a lie. The cuteness of comfort that a child could and would bring didn't exist.

There had been a warmth, the tug of love when people suffer together. Yes there had been that.

She still washed his clothes, over and over again. It was as if she was constantly saying sorry fro bringing you into the world.

The destructives were out. They hung around like wolves waiting for the kill. Their eyes like knives, full of useless need. She was not in a mood to breed.

They watched her in desperation, but she wasn't giving in. Their deadweight beings wanted something for nothing. She had suffered and battled for what she had got and she wasn't going to give it up without a fight.

There were the days of death that lingered like an empty corridor. Without witnesses what could she do? The time of meeting was important. They had missed each other non-stop. He felt all alone and so did she. Sometimes she felt like they were fading away. Things were becoming problems and the worrying was getting worse.

She played her Christian music and thought about life. How it never ended, even if you got off at an earlier stop. She felt like calling everyone back as she sat alone on the route. Her tongue had been silenced. Momentarily.

The battle had just begun- but she was tired. Ill again from some such thing or person. Water leaked into her boots and she couldn't always bend down to dress herself. So this is what 50 meant.

"The look in your eyes is one of surprise

You didn't know how much I could take

With this fire of desire, this mud and mire

You made your biggest Mistake

The lesson has been learnt in full

Only to be forgotten

And if it weren't for you my love

I'd call this world quite rotten

The withdrawal of her sympathy towards certain people only served to make her veins like ice. Often she would remember to smile at a child to not be completely foul. This emptying of her soul onto paper would keep her captured in the minds eye. That was the plan, but at what cost?

Time was ticking away, and she looked around at her surroundings. The bitter- sweetness of surprise and the fore knowledge of committal made her weary and excited all at the same time.

'May be next time' She said to herself. 'Maybe next time I'll get it right'.

The do that, do this brigade only broadened her sadness. For all the years she had studied, this is where it had got her. She was afraid and proud in the same moment.

A fellow library user came and sat directly next to her. There were several other spaces around, but he had to come and be beside her. A certain smell like old boots, wafted in her direction. He was usually worst than this.

In a way she was glad of the company. His impertinence was a rare escape from writing. Yet she missed the solace of her own company where she could feel and reel off the music of her words.

Aaaah, how she had danced in the past. Enjoying herself with abandon. And now the hard work had come into play. This was the moment that she was wanting to leave and couldn't. It was if some delicate drum was beating a tune that she had to adhere to. Far in the distance she could see its pattern, even in the air, weaving and threading its way through without stopping. She tried not to be bitter.

He was growing. He was knowing. There were moments with him that made it all worthwhile. Then they sank, deeply remembered in a parallel universe, unforgotten somewhere.

They needed each other, but they had to let go. It was all in the maths, the give and take, the balance. There had been miscalculations along the way and grave errors, but she was willing to give it another try. If she had the energy.

Now ghostly themes floated around her and an unmistakable air carried her around. It was as if she were marked and doomed- fight as she might. Alongside her child.