PRESUMPTION By Lita Nala Khisymah

PRESUMPTION 

Silent in the dark, I gaze at the carving that has been created, one that has long grown from misunderstanding. I am angry at the way I interpreted everything you conveyed. 

Perhaps your gaze was simply ordinary, carrying no meaning at all. Perhaps your words were merely small talk that I took to heart. Perhaps your messages were only written words, without any sweet intention. 

I danced upon a stage that I built myself. I demanded a heart you never offered. I built possibilities from things you never even promised. 

Too many conclusions I drew on my own. Not a few assumptions about you were born from my imagination. 

And now I am angry, Angry at the way I searched for meaning in every one of your actions. At the way I dwelled on every single word you spoke. At the way I caught signals you never even sent. 

I am angry at the presumptions I created all by myself.