Prompt #62

Words are small.  They can be tangible or intangible things, carved on the walls of Mayan temples in the form of men and demons, carved on stone tablets to instruct a nation, whispered from one set of lips to a chilly ear on a November night, shouted across the lawn, accompanied by projectile objects.  Just words.  

What about the difference between a “no” and a “yes”?  Only one letter more in the second word, though the letters are all different alphabetically.  They are pretty far apart in the dictionary, but when a question is asked one of these two is generally given in answer – in one form or another.  They are very similar.  Very much the same.

So when he asked and I said “no,” not much change should have taken place.  He took more words than usual to say “love me” and I said “no,” abruptly in contrast.  Then he pretended to have never asked, and I pretended not to care.  Our habit of trading words lessened markedly.

He still thinks about me, of that I’m sure.  When he falls, he falls pretty hard.  I still think of him, knowing that I pushed him, knowing he’ll be alright.  We would never have been happy together, he should’ve known that.  But he did know that, so why did he even make the demand he did?

My bed is half-empty, just the way I like it.  It sure didn’t take me long to move back into the mindset of ‘alone forever.’  It’s the mindset that fits my head, and it’s the safe and comfortable place to be.  

From Mayan temples to my half-filled bed, words took me there and back again.  Around and around, dizzyingly and deftly.  Words are not small, they are infinitely grand.  Crashing kingdoms, corrupting regimes, they’ll always be there to change us and for us to change.