Sharp words cut. I fell victim. I let it.Should have done better. Listened to a troubled woman, who uses barbs to scar family and friend. Knew she hurt those close to the point of abandonment. Fell prey to her games because the lies she used were unwarranted and full of self-loathing.
Should have let her words pass, but leaving things unsaid weighed too heavy. Her black hole forces drew me in. Like a universal drain circling the hole, I spun, spun, and spun. Her little games. . .I underestimated the strength of years of practiced quips. She is skilled in hurt. It is her lover.
I knew the better course. Let this petty, old woman live in her ever vapid universe. Alone.
She did not know me. Why let this stranger's word harm me? She has no power. No wisdom. No. . . Like a Black Hole she exist by being empty. Her hurt is ancient. Her portrait lifeless. Eyes are midnight. Still, I let her venomous lies about my own, cloud my better judgment. Big Smile, sorry. I will do better.
My terrible tongue used rough words when the better course was to let this one wither.Should have trusted Faith to correct. Her skin is too scarred and without sensation. No feelings, she's a shell. My words would do her no harm. Is this the only way she can feel? I knew the righteous path and still I spoke. "For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also" James 2:26. She is body without, and I did not do the work needed. It was wrong for me to say such things.
She draws attention because her center is void. This obsidian heart has no color. No Reds. No Oranges. No Yellows. No Greens. No Blues. She takes light and returns none. Her color is a reflection. Black.
I pray this emptiness will fill with Love soon. However, her history? She gravitates, pulling around her into deep, dark unfillable hole that is her. If she knew to get out of a hole, the first step is stop digging. I pray to be better if faced again with this scenario.
I pitied her once. Her own broke ties. Her children's children will know this.
Our encounter. She was defensive at first. Explaining this and that, Verify with this person and that one. Aren't your words good enough? Can't they stand on their own? She claimed false innocence. No one was accusing. However, heard stories and felt the charred pain from her cosmic wake. She darkened many stars. So I was opened-eyed and wary of games. Asked direct questions and then she acted coy. These games?!!! Asked again then she acted aggressive. Asked simple questions she claimed no responsibility. Doth protest too much!!!
Trying to ascertain where the meteor message had come from, her ellipse was off. She rotated this way saying she wanted fairness. Clumsy words. . .from one unaccustomed to stand straight. Off center and wobbling, she realized I would play no game. A simple open-ended question. What was her part? If any? What was her truth? She stumbled, begging than demanding to hear my point. This was not a debate. It was an inquiry. I gave none knowing she would reflect back what I wanted to hear. My hope was for the simple, untarnished truth. Light disinfects. Still she acted lunar. No atmosphere. No light. A moon just reflecting the truth. She offered no answers. No truth, No light.
She forgets that I asked a plain question. Let her truth, her story enlighten. It would disinfect all hurt and pain. It would manifest and everyone would be better.
Alas, Just blackness. Hurtful things were said because this what she knows. Evidently this all she knows.Thinking me the fool I did not fire this asteroid at her. It was her own that sent the truth crashing on her. She threatened gossip spreading of dead one, she tried to hurt a little boy that no longer scares, she claimed foul and says "Goodbye."
Striking I said you saying "Goodbye" does not end this. She can run. She can cry. Spread rumors of the dead, question the son's love, and be an accomplice to adultery--This will not end well. She is a cavity, a black hole. And she is being crushed by her gravity.
Shame on this person. I would forgive and correct child that acted this way. One would counsel and advise her on a better course of action. This one, she is old and leathery. Like a snake that has slithered to survive. Her constellation is in the stars. Wiggling this way and that way to legendary status of what not to be. She will remembered for her lunacy.
Feigning innocence. It is her way. Demanding fairness is not a fair exchange when your reputation precedes. Protocol of kindness was offered, but when bad behavior ensues, Gloves are off. No quarter is given. Let the meteor shower.
Heard a term, TMA TMA TMA. Too Much Acting, Too Much Acting Too Much Acting.
She pretends to be more than what she is. A cosmic entity, yes. Not a star. Not a little sun. Not even a moon. A universal vacuum. Caia Trip, a constellation forever remembered for slithering. This no longer evokes pity, just prayer. She is hollow. Darkness, hurt, and sadness cloak her and her words. It exudes ugliness. People scream to escape. She reaches out to others, struggling and scratching. Her barbs hurt because she has no moral center. She pulls for light for warmth. She cold. They abandon her orbit to escape her doom. Her blackness.
She is old and will pass. I will pray for her. Forgiveness, right now, this is for God, It will take me more time
