Hold on hope

by Lewis

The thick rimmed brute hulked menancingly from the dim shadows. The memories of a time when he was held and hugged, etched on his face. A tram line of of scars criss cross across his body, each one, a stop further into the shadows. He glowers through the black, past the dusty edges of those more fortunate. Past to a glistening, shimmering sheen, so fine that it might not be there at all. Tall, elegant, graceful, unwrapped and on display. A stark contrast that only remind him of what he once was and will never be again.

Unseen and Unused he spends another day plotting and cursing, to the backs of silent, unlistening heads. Unclean and Unloved he spends another night hating and cracking inside. He dips into a dream, where he feels the steam as a river pours and churns inside him, hot and satisfying. He smells the leaf, Assam perhaps before he sees the teabag, swinging before him, the flavour reaches out and nustles against his smooth skin. And in that warmth he feels her, the gentle touch of a finger brushing against him. He cannot speak, for his heart is filling his mouth. And then he feels a crack widen. He tries to speak but water rushes out, all he can see is the faded imprint of her hand and all he can hear is the sound of him splitting. Only, to become the creak of a hinge. The door opens and he is awake.

The door shuts. He hears the clink of a shimmer and a bottle. Muted laughter creeps through the gaps, seeking him out personally to point and chortle. And so it goes. Time passes. Clink. Drink. The shimmers come and go, he watches them all and remembers them though they do not last. Some come back touched with a deep red that reminds him of her lips. But it is a touch that sees them discarded. He would die a 1000 times to feel it. The shimmers do not chip, they crumble. The smallest crack sends them tumbling, unusable. The air chills with a sudden sigh they shatter, only to be found glistening in the swinging doors dancing light. And then, for his part, he pities them.

IAnd then one day there are two shattered shimmers, dripping with the remnants of red and white, thrown in amid the confusion of the late night joviality. Their pool stretching out to all corners. The soft sigh, is hers this time, as slowly she carries them out. But to his surprise, she returns, another is taking out. Then another, until one by one they disappear before him. Until. Suddenly. Their gazes meet. He smiles nervously and she laughs. Her hand reaches out and he swears he must be dreaming. But he does not wake as she takes him in her hand. A memory so sweet and right, that it fills her being. Her fingers brush his scars and she feels something inside her say. This is what you need. With a gentle wipe of a cloth, he feels the dirt drop away. The rush of the tap drowns him in happiness. He hears the kettle whir and bubble and he dares to shine. He feels her fingers wrap around him and they know. THis is a new beginning.