Her Last Sunset

Pixabay.

The sun was sinking on the horizon painting the evening sky with a golden splash. She sat there in silence trying to absorb the magic of the beautiful sunset her gaze was riveted on. Her mind, for the first in months, settled in an unexplainable state of relaxation.

After more than half an hour the last rays signaled the beginning of the moon's shift. She started walking back home and the chaos in her mind rose from the dead like starving vampires.

It's been months since it happened and it still felt fresh. She may have contributed to it unknowingly as she replayed the events of that sickening evening in her mind infinitely trying to scavenge for what she did wrong to deserve all of it.

Mboya was getting married to her childhood friend and as Lukela's sidekick, she was in charge of making sure everything ran smoothly. She played her role with great care like she would've if she ever had a sister. Lukela had been that since they were young and it felt right to be at the center of organizing her wedding.

The wedding day came and her best friend married the man of her dreams in a lavish garden not far from her house. She was on her toes the whole day keeping a constant eye on how things were going.

A toast for the groom and bride had the whole house on its feet and drinks being passed around to raise a glass for them. A familiar face passed her a drink and for a second she questioned why the glass felt warm -like it has been held by the same hands for a while- but she quickly dismissed that thought and drained its content in a single gup.

There was a waiter who immediately took her glass with a smile before she felt her energy drop. She assumed it was the disadvantage of being on her feet for hours pacing around and started looking for a place to sit.

The familiar face offered his seat with a smile smeared all over his face.

She woke up half-naked behind a tent four hours later. The shame of not knowing who did what and at what time carried her feet home in a hundred meter dash mode. She locked the door behind and crashed on the floor.

For months she'd been hiding away in her bathroom trying to scrub off invisible filthy fingerprints on her skin only to later lay wide awake at night because she still felt imaginary hands violating her body.

More hours in the tab didn't help too and neither did drugs. She dragged her 'dirty body' between the bed and loos for months.

Her inability to dilute her self-criticism had driven her to take that walk and look for answers in a fading sunset. When she got back home she was decided to silence the chaos suffocating her mind. She cocked the gun and aimed.

---

Recent Posts :)

Poetry... I am Africa.

Poetry... Honest Spill.

Poetry... Life is....

Thank you for coming.

---