Desolate Beauty.

And long black strands met long silver white as, heads together, fresh tears glistened on perfect cheeks.  “Why, oh why can’t you see that this is not your fault?” they cried.

“Because I blame myself for everything. You know that”.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you are not always to blame?” the black-haired one pleaded desperately, through broken-voiced sobs.

“No”, was my flat response.

“Oh, WHY??!”

It’s simple, really, my darling. You see, if I don’t blame me, someone else will. It has always been so.  On the few occasions when I have said ‘I am not to blame for this’ someone has come along and told me otherwise.  I cannot conceive of an instance in which I have not been at fault for something, everything, or even a small part of any of my life’s circumstances. Besides, I take responsibility for my actions”.

“My darling, this is not your fault!” And the tears fell, ceaselessly, quietly, and with such a soul deep anguish that I thought my heart would break.

“Yes it is” I replied matter-of-factly.

The tear-drenched eyes widened in a wild incredulity. “Why don’t you hear me?  You hear ‘it’s your fault’ quite clearly. Am I speaking a different language?!”

“I am afraid you are, sweetheart.  I don’t understand a language that attests to my innocence. It is completely foreign to me”.

“Well then, my heart shall break. The fault is not yours and I must endure the undeserved recriminations of others against you, on top of your own?  Do you know the pain that shall cause me?”

“I am so sorry, my love”. I said, quietly.

And their sobs tore at my soul.

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1 Comment

Filed under Posts That I have Been Too Busy to Categorise or Don't Fit Elsewhere

One response to “Desolate Beauty.

  1. Pingback: Beautiful Desolation « From Here to Bulgaria

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