In Between

This poem is a sestina, in which the last words of the first 6 stanzas are repeated in a restricted pattern. In my case, I had chosen my six words randomly, drawn out of a collection of many words.

The coffee shop had its own eccentric scent, which still takes my breath away.

Like I was drowning in an ocean of chocolate, so lethal yet so tempting.

Thus here I am, each morning, unable to resist the bittersweet torture.

Wrapping me in an enchanting spell,

As I gaze out the glass window,

Starring at the lifeless bodies trying to live.

 

It’s ironic, how compared to them I feel more alive.

The high school girl, I can make out the words as she tells her dearest friend her plan to run away.

Foolish child, she can’t escape life, but my wisdom can’t reach her through the glass window.

The urge to break through, I resisted but it was so tempting.

As if that miserable petty life, on me began to cast its dark spell.

No! I can never go back. For now, I bear this torture.

 

Stupid are those who believe words are the biggest torture.

Diseases and death are far worse. When you are unaware of what lies ahead, because no longer you are alive.

Death is then casted in a fast or more often in a slow painfully excruciating spell.

Like drowning in an ocean of chocolate as it gradually sucks each breath away.

The pain so intense, the urge to end your miserable existence is tempting,

But all you get to see are lifeless bodies through a transparent window.

 

As everything gets blurry, you get frustrated at the translucent window.

You stare at your shaking hands merging with the tan coffee table, as you breathe in more torture.

The urge to get your hand on those sharp objects is so tempting.

They say “Be strong sweetheart,” but what if you have nothing for which to life.

They homeless man stares at me then smiles for a brief moment before heading for his hideaway.

Smile to mock me? Sympathize or inspired? Did my face on him cast a glorious spell?

 

Giving him the motivation to work harder than ever? Enchanted by my inspirational spell?

Maybe he dreaded his future as he saw me through the glass window,

Through which he could see me so clearly, I resisted the envy to look away.

I was perplexed at my own jealousy for the life I assumed for him. More than ever I was tortured.

Transparent and Translucent, but why can’t it be opaque already? I can’t tell if it’s my eyes or the window.

Although I barely had any left, the urge to pull out my hair was tempting.

 

For a brief moment, to enter the world of lifeless bodies was tempting.

Lifeless they were, but so annoyingly optimistic, reversing my gloomy spell.

But I am on the other side of the window.

It’s ok. Each wrinkled line on my pale skin, is proof that I’ve lived. The torture,

Is like drowning in an ocean of chocolate, as I’m slowly fading away.

 

It’s tempting, if only quickly I could fade away.

I’ve been poisoned, by an awful spell. But it’s over. No longer will I need to face this torture.

The tumor was my demise. No longer I live. Opaque is now the window.