The Eighth Day: Coco

When I was asked to write this, I was like “Hell yeah! Bring it on!” LOL. Ode. I was honestly confident in the fact that I could write this in five minutes, flat. I mean, all I have to do is write who I am. Right? WRONG!!!! Mhen! I’m so effing pissed.

And now, your feature presentation ^.^

The sun beats down on her, even as she leans against the wall under the minute shade the tin roof struggles to provide. She stays there, unmoving, head bent, one hand in her pocket, one foot on the wall, free hand clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag. Dressed in faded blue skinny jeans a pink hoodie and doc, she looks quite out of place in the abandoned construction site, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. She stands in the same corner every day, dressed pretty much the same way, holding the same brown paper bag, 

There she stands

Dancing on the edge of a cliff

Pretty young thing

How her heart aches

Started as a grain of sand

Steadily became a pebble

Now, there’s a wall

Fully fortified 

Keeping her sealed in. Enclosed

Her heart still dares to dream


Her soul longs for the grains of sand on the shore.

Beyond those walls

 She dreams, waiting

Sometimes it rains. You can see how shocked she is when it starts to drizzle, but, still, she doesn’t move. She just stands there, occasionally sipping from the bottle in the bag, lancing up from time to time; like she’s waiting for something.

And then, as if by chance

She runs into hope some day

 She can’t believe it’s really there

 It looked good

Felt pretty amazing

She stretches out the hand that was in her pocket, slowly extending it until it’s under the light rain that’s started to fall. And then she sets the bottle down on the floor and steps out from under the tin roof. The rain keeps pouring and she stands perfectly still, letting herself get drenched in it. I watch her as she lifts her head and the hood falls. She welcomes every drop on her face, ecstatic.

That subtle glimmer

A careless smile

The slight fluttering of her heart

All replaced with regret

She shouldn’t have cared

Now she’s stuck with the memories


The end turned everything sour

All too soon, the clouds clear up and the sun is back with a vengeance. She cringes and sinks to the floor as its rays focus all their ferocity on her, slowly drying up any evidence of rain. Curled up on the floor, she sobs silently, only betrayed by the irregular rise and fall of her worn out hoodie. She stays like that for a while, and then is completely still. Time seems to freeze for a minute as she lies there completely silent, barely breathing and then she gets up, dusts herself up and returns to her spot under the roof.

And so, still she stood

Reveling in her misery

Another swig from the bottle. I can’t take my eyes of off her. Standing there, looking beat up and worse than ever. I’ve seen enough and my heart can’t take it. I can’t believe she’s gone this far. Barely existing, fading. She could drop dead in the blink of an eye. 

I want to hear her say she’s fine

I want to believe her when I hear it

But she isn’t

And we both know it

She looks right at me and her eyes pierce my soul. All the pain she feels, the anger, the hurt, I feel it too. Deep inside of me. My knees go weak, my heart bleeds. I want to reach out to her, make her feel better, Drive away the pain and suffering. Take her under my wings. Heal her. Help her fly. But she won’t let me.

She doesn’t care

Keeps putting up appearances 

Like she’s doing great 

“You should be happy” she says

Live! Celebrate!

She doesn’t want me to worry

She’s as strong as I taught her to be, that much is pretty clear. Still very much stubborn and unyielding because that’s how she knows to be. But I need her to understand that I need to get through. I need to break these walls down. I need to set her free.

I want to worry about her

I want to because deep down I still care about her

Because, if truth be told, I broke her heart

I gave up on her

On us

And left her stranded

Suddenly, she smiles and it’s all too clear. There’s no real reason for me to be there. I’ve made mistakes and so as she, but we gotta move on and be free. She’s made her choice and that’s in the past. One has to pay the price for living fast. But she did all that so I can be me; So I can finally see.

Without her, I’m nothing but an empty shell

And she knows it’s true

Because without me she’s empty too

That’s why she’s been there waiting

Trying and failing

Hoping her hero will come through


8 responses to “The Eighth Day: Coco

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