• Rochelle Arucan

If left to Howl


Even sheep have little wolf within them- If left to believe that their ill intentions are not seen. We are

all capable, thumb nosed to the feelings of others if we so desire if we believe that our actions will bear little consequence to those that love us because after all, we are just merely wondering, and what they don't know, won't hurt them. Right? But curiosity should have boundaries, especially when ripe, and calculated. Opening doors to past loves is a silent gamble- Flooding old feelings with comparisons of the today. And will your regret follow as it did then when you were weighing out the options during the initial decision to leave one for the other- her for me, me for her? Will you place me at war in this unknowing space, for which I am doomed to lose because this story, you know, and that is a story you did not allow yourself to continue in existence because what? You were too afraid, it was too soon, you were not ready. So what? Are you now? Why do you leave so many doors open after closing them? Why did you walk through mine with such intention, only to now leave the others ajar where they were once shut? Or was that just a farse, leading me to open pastures to become your meal. Are you truly this selfish and rampant in your thirst? Telling me one story believable enough, telling her another believable enough. Silver-tongued, that I would be left to feel the uneasiness of your thought out, compulsory deceitful curiosity? Continuing on the way you did before, conversing to feed your complacency for someone else's attractive ideas, and thoughts, and body? You are never satisfied and as such never are you truly present. How is this love? How do you find justification?


You remind me of how my Mother and Father love. Easily whisked away by lust, then settling out of comfort or ownership, forsaking me into providing, knowing that I would see past the deep forbidden shades of the dark hue of blue of your vast ocean spread, the place you thrive and most fear to tread. I was born this way, I guess. To be a lover, so that people like my mother, like my father, like you, could always know love while pretending to be unselfish as you give what you can. Because I am the shallow turquoise sea, translucent, and warm, and open. You never have to worry about the invisible, for if there are sharks or predators lurking, you will know, and I will protect you. I was born this way. I had to be born to people like them, for people like you.


I am a sheep within a lion within a wolf. Though I do not advertise myself as such, there is no need. You do not have to guess, I do not make you guess. I am always aware, in tune, vocal. But I am tired. I cannot continue to patina your debris left behind with my goodness, as you leave laconic explanations crumb-like for me to nibble on. The truth is not short, nor do I desire it to be agreeable or without pain. I am not naive in this way, nor have I ever been. The truth allows for necessary fecundity, for which half stories and lexical ambiguity only incur more questions and doubt. Perhaps that's the intention? So I may continue to be lassoed to you as you continue to relieve yourself of the dissonance for which is your current state. "I do not know, therefore I will hold on until I do, until one feels more than the other, as they both hope, unknowing of each other, unknowing of a decision to be made." You. This is not how I want to be loved. No one deserves to be loved this way. Do not speak of love if this is how you think- if this is your action. I do not want to be in your dark hue of blue. I will drown there, as I did for my mother, as I did for my father. I will drown there, and my turquoise will be no more.


So I must ask myself, Self, is any of this worth the trouble, to be "ridden hard and put away wet"? I thought we knew each other, of how easy hurt love can become. Having experienced the mirage of desire for which the heart becomes addicted. How is your refusal of the chain to relationship more important than my own? You breathe out saccharine lies because what you do in your life, you must experience as your own, right? Right. Is this why we do not hold hands. You would be one to pass a lie detector because you believe honestly so that your intentions are good, and therefore if you believe that your intentions are harmless, it must be so. But dear boy, if you are hiding something, you must know that in some ways this is wrong. Don't you know that you can be honest and live your life? Do you enjoy the space of magical thinking?


I am sitting north side of a park we are both well acquainted. How many years have we been here? I wonder. How many years do I have left to continue, I recycle in wonder. It is neither cold nor hot today, it is just as. "I just am" I remind myself. Thinking dramatically of all the past moments, how just moments ago you tried to lie to me again sweetly. "I did this because of an itch, an itch!". How the only truth you had was how nice the itch was. And there it is. Will you itch so I am no more, do you think I'm foolish to not know the importance of the time before? Of who she may be, or is for you? As if, I do not, I could not ever know.


I take it back. You are a wolf in sheep's clothing within a snake. Are you just as good as convincing me, as you are with yourself? Are you? No. You are not.












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