BLACK ACTIONS, BLACK FEELINGS, BLACK COFFEE, BLACK DEATH.

4 dozens of hours had passed since the moment she learned the truth.

She picked up a notebook where he had written a poem for his lover, she read it:

Once a road was ever walked,
Twice it was like walked by me.
There I saw her ancient smile,
Enjoyed her sight with delight.

Sad's her face, sad's her burden.
Pure her heart, pure her loving.
Make her happy, make her please
a day may come, them will be.

...For the life can be weird, and the love can be fulfilled*

She put it in her bag and ran out of his house, got into her car, and stopped to call him on her way home. Now they had an appointment that same night at his place, and she had got the perfect alibi.

She took a shower after she arrived, looked at herself on the mirror, and then turned on the TV, but couldn’t find anything at least interesting. Still naked, she started to pack for the next day’s trip and centered her eyes on one of the 5 drawers. She was tempted to open it but she was not prepared, she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she got dressed and walked away from it. Her heart’s beating was the clearest symptom of the horror she was starting to experience. But no!, She couldn’t be that weak, that stupid, and that cruel with herself.

There she was, in her own room, sitting on a couch eating the huge desire of opening the place where memories of a dead love remained and wanting to reach her instrument of vengeance.
She needed to be far away from the evidence that caused her madness, far away from the proof of her guiltiness, far away from the murder instinct that was driving her to a precipice.

She knew she was not prepared to face the consequences, but the idea of having to see his bogus and lying face again, made her sick.

She focused on the drawers and took some seconds, which were like whole hours, and looking at the damn third drawer she took the decision. Pulling the drawer open, she produced an envelope and a small glass container full of the dose which would allow her to separate them.


She left home. During that night, she walked the streets trying to forget, she wanted to get rid of the link which bonded them. Rain talked to her but she didn't listen, she tried to be one more, a common human, just a pedestrian but in fact, she was in the spotlight. Her face called the other’s attention, but nobody said a word. And she didn’t really give a flying fuck; she was safe because nobody knew what her secret was. She lit up a cigarette and continued walking until she arrived to his house.

He was waiting for her and as she came she allowed him one last kiss.
Knowing that he wouldn’t refuse a cup of coffee, she asked for some for both of them and after he had brought two steaming cups, she gave him her coat to be hung and while he did this, she poured the black liquid contained in the glass bottle into his drink, into his black mug, into his dark coffee, being sure that he wouldn’t notice it.
He came back and due to the bone aching cold he gulped the enough amount to feel his heart stop and his sight to become blurry, there was a strange sensation in his mouth, something bittersweet was in it, his tongue was numb, he got desperate when he realized that he couldn’t help the liquid down his throat and couldn’t even move his tongue; he felt darkness in his head since there were just his messy thoughts.
That was the scene she needed for the cycle to be finished. He was agonizing and not even a muscle of her face moved. She took her coat and her cup with her and left.

She had planned to escape, so she went to the train station and had to wait for the next service. She sat down on the floor and listened to the music that loneliness whispered to her ears. She was alone and sad. The tears filled her eyes and anger took control of her soul. She cursed and accepted the truth. That feeling was stronger than her and it would remain haunting her life because she had kept it in the deepest corner she found in her chest.
She took out the pictures of the envelope a detective had given her four days before. She looked at them and once more her body was full of sadness, it was her ego the one that was hurt, she felt miserable but she couldn’t stand his treason.

She looked at the pictures countless times, she read through them the story of his boyfriend’s affair and couldn’t avoid the desire of asking questions to his ghost; she demanded him for answers, because the space for them was empty. She hated fate because she thought they were meant to be together and now she was on her own, without him, without the father of her baby…

And while she was there, she wrote:

“Tears are now filling my eyes (..)Am I guilty for not being there when he met her? Hell! I don't know”

*This poem was witten as a comment to one of my posts in my former blog by "Lonely Dark One's Den" (I decided to use his alias)

14 de Abril de 2008