The Slowing Sunset Sweetly Marking Anew

Vivid colors in the slowing sky perform a dance of ancient tradition for my sullen eyes. The sunset's bright oranges blend with its reds and yellows, like a bouquet of flowers tossed about the clouds. Tracks beneath me pace a steady click, clack, thunk, paving the way for inconsistent, hazy thoughts. I lazily rest my chin atop curled fingers, as my mind begins to slow with the rhythm of the wind.

Interrupting my tranquil thoughts, clashing with the peaceful scenery are the many passengers within the jolting cart. Passengers who irk me in ways that disrupt the still air in a way that makes my body squirm beneath my skin. Just behind the musty, leather seat, is a crying child whose bellows and screams ring within the train. To add to the unfathomable discomfort, a thicker round man sits beside me and snores louder than the whales beneath the surface of the ocean. The man's hand rests just next to my thigh, pinky touching the cloth of my washed jeans in a rather inappropriate way. His sickly green eyes open just a smidge every once in a while to see if I notice he is not in fact “sleeping”. A young woman contributes to the irritation, as she loudly juts her lips, chewing her gum like the cows outside munch the grass along the wired fence. The woman's trashy pop music blasts through her headphones as she continues to smack, earning her a few concerned glares.

Beneath the chaos, however, my eyes meet a glowing image that will remain a saccharine memory for decades to come. A little girl dressed in a sparkly gown and matching bright pink bow clips is resting in her sluggish father's lap. The girl's doe eyes begin to flutter as she drifts off into somber, sweet slumber. Her father rubs his hand on her back in a circular motion, his dark eyes matching his daughters as they slowly weigh down on him. 

I turn back around and rest my forehead against the foggy window. Dark curls lie parted pressed to the glass and sticking just above my flushed cheekbones. My eyes follow the flaxen grass, watching intently as it whips by with every passing moment. Before me, wonderous melancholy blue eyes reflect and stare deeply into my soul. Eyes that are a reflection of my younger self, enlist a pitiful sense of emotions to pervade every inch of my mind. Fond and heartfelt memories begin to flash within, humming their solemn song of jazzy blues.

Even though this voyage is for the greater good, I cannot help but quietly weep in my seat. I squeeze my eyes shut as I attempt to muffle loud sobs with an orange scarf to my agape jaw. My swollen heart yearns for those distant moments when you held eight-year-old me as I sobbed and begged mama to let me stay just a little bit longer, no matter the circumstance. Or all those warm nights that you'd rent a Redbox movie and we'd eat popcorn and drink fizzy sodas till our stomachs felt as if they were to pop from all the carbonation. Or even the time you too, held almost motionless me in a tight embrace as we dozed off into a blissful dream. I especially miss the times you took my pumping heart, and restrained it in the unruly chains of your image.

I dig my claws deep into my chest cavity and search relentlessly for a sign of that grotesquely, decomposed heart. My hand pokes and prods in every crevice of my ribs, feeling nothing but mushed muscle. The maggots have completely eaten away at the flattened heart, and have left me with what one might mistake for a pulverized carcass on the side of the road. I tear at my lifeless body, rotted flesh appearing underneath my fingernails as I weep, forever searching for a way to keep you with me. But nothing is ever enough.

My mind is hauntingly morbid and dull, for I imagine all the complicated ways to kill myself and revive again to become completely new. To scrub my skin shiny, like you would to your ceramic, prized statue. Removing every blemish, and polishing my glass surface perfectly.

I freeze for a moment and internally laugh. Hysteric at the absurdity of the situations I’ve put myself in to please you. I wipe the unnecessary tears off my face with a spare sleeve and wonder. Why? Why do I continuously allow your malevolent image to hold me back? It has done nothing but scrub too hard on my skin, removing it completely from my bones. A nauseating sight to all who cared. I will not let you keep me from moving on. 

Your crushing hold on my tattered heart finally releases its grip and I am once again able to let go. The maggots that had sloppily slurped up my ill heart are plucked delicately, and slowly by my own hands. With soft, tender fingers, I have planted a new heart, a heart the size of a cherry that will only grow with time and nurture. Time and nurture I will give to myself, and myself only. 

We’ve seen something like this before, a blackened, charred forest sprouts tiny green saplings that will in time bring a whole vast array of ecosystems. A lizard's tail has been ripped off by a child's grubby little hands, wriggling on the ground while the lizard impishly scurries off, expecting a newly grown tail within 60 long days. A writer refreshes a page and loses all of their hard work and energy in a single mistaken click, but soon after grieving, they will write a new story full of abundance and life. 

It will never be the same forest, or the same tail, or the same story, but it will be newer and stronger. So maybe letting go of it all wasn’t such a bad choice, but a choice that could pave the way for something glorious. 

I blink and watch the blinding sliver of sun peek over as the train turns down a new track. My eyes shine almost as bright, and a fond smile tugs at the corners of my chapped lips. I close my eyes and let out a breath I've held for eternity, the relief covering me like a snug blanket on autumn's day. Relief that's formed at the thought of the slowing sunset sweetly marking anew.