I firmly thought at first that fidelity and sorrow could not live in one context, because we humans treat sadness as a negative emotion and fidelity is paired with the idea of being compassionate. And yes, compassion means being able to share the same emotions with someone — the same love, the same joy, even if it must be the same sadness.
But sorrow is different. Sorrow is a sentiment far greater than mere sadness. Sorrow is the tears that I shed when I lost you. It’s the breakfastless morning because of the absence of the breathing figure that usually sits on the chair on the other side of the table. It’s the feeling of lamenting in front of the grave that never really existed in the first place.
Because you are still breathing and standing on your tall pair of legs.
You’re just dead in me — and you’re the one who killed yourself.
We can’t really do anything about the gun because it already has been loaded with the bullets that have unconsciously formed through our endless arguments. But it’s a choice as to where you will fire it — and you chose to fire it on you instead of just shooting the ground.
And I appreciate how you want to save me, but I’m sorry, efforts have failed.
Because I don’t feel saved at all.
I feel like how the sky feels at night when the sun has decided to set. And just like the night sky, I still have my moon and my stars spread across my width. But they are not enough to lighten me up the way you light me up.
You are my sun and I devote myself to you and to the light that you have provided me. It’s just too bad that my devotion is not enough reason for you to stay.
Now, I still have so much fidelity left in me and I don’t know where to put it. So it blended with my sorrow, forming this bell-shaped blues.
Now all that I can do is to pick them up from where my emotions planted them and send them to your grave for you to somehow know how you made me feel — for you to know that you paired my fidelity with sorrow.
Bluebells grow under the tears of my eyes and I’m currently soaking in tears, so I’m sure that in no time, sooner or later, I’ll be a forest of blues.
