lamentations of a withered tin can

I CAN SEE YOU FROM DOWN HERE. i hope you can see me too. but i doubt you’d be able to because you walk with your chin high up, and it looks like you’re in a hurry. the pointed heels of your shoes seem to break the ground as you walk. the sound it makes reminds me of someone knocking on my bedroom door once upon a time, but a little faster. where are you going? why in such a haste? i guess you’re running late for work. i hope i could borrow your time for a while. if i could only make you stop.

i am here. i am down here. i am the rusting tin can on the sidewalk. any moment now, you’ll be right here in front of me. if i could only give you a signal that i am here. i have been waiting for so long…for you. the time had already taken its toll on me and now i am ugly. but i don’t care of how i look. i have always believed that beauty lies in the inside. but wait. i have no insides, have i? i am hollow. empty. i am a tin can, but how could i feel something like this. something as impossible as love.

you’re coming closer and closer. i could see everything from down here. your every detail. every spontaneous move. every blink of those big brown eyes. i wish they’d look down, then, perhaps you could see me. did i mention i am the tin can on the sidewalk? the one near a puddle of vomit. an old beggar left it there. he seemed to have a bad stomach earlier this morning. i should know because he’d been using me for seven months to ask for alms from indifferent passersby. but now the beggar had decided to get rid of me. he doesn’t need me anymore. he threw me away and left me there like a trash. what am i saying? i am a trash. i have always been a trash. and now, once again, i am useless. it’s pathetic to be used as a container of coins and being held up in front of peoples’ smug, disgusted or smirking faces. but i’d rather be a pathetic coin container than a useless, withered can. a few steps more, you’ll be right in front of me at last.

i see your hair is well-done today. your skin’s still flawless as i have imagined it. your red lips seem untouched and now i am thinking if i could kiss those someday. what a pathetic thought. and now it’s starting to rain. you looked up to the gray skies with utmost disappointment. how could be a disappointed look seem so beautiful? i guess, it’s because the look lies in your heavenly face. it’s so graceful how you opened that black umbrella. you lifted it up, got under it, raised your chin up again, and walked, but this time a little slower, perhaps you’re afraid the puddles of water on the wet sidewalk might stain your legs.

you’re so near now. i am here. down here. the tin can near the puddle of vomit. i am glad you’re walking slowly this time. there’s still a chance you could see me right? just a few more steps. my fingers are crossed if i have any.

seven more steps…

i could hear clearly, the sound your heels make...

five more…

three…

just one…

then, you stopped. you were careful not to step on the beggar’s vomit. i looked up and i can’t believe what i have just seen. were you looking at me? is that a smile from you? yes. that’s definitely a smile. you bent down, and picked me up. you were not disgusted. you didn’t hesitate to let those hands touch my rotten skin. you had seen me when i was invisible. you appreciated me when i feel so ugly. i am so glad you picked me up. and now i will no longer be a trash anymore, i guess. i will cease from being useless. i could be anything you want. i could be your flower pot. i could be your pencil holder. i could keep your coins for you, if you want. anything you want me to be, just name it.

i was so happy. you picked me up and now were both under your black umbrella. i was safe. secured. dry. there will no longer be rain to rust me or extreme sun to break me. you came and saw me when you i thought it was impossible. i was invisible but those brown eyes set upon me. and now i am the happiest tin can in the world.

then you walked, with me held in your left hand the umbrella in your right. it seemed like forever... almost.

seven more steps…

every step you take was a prayer...

five more…

three…

just one…

you stopped walking. and i felt your hand slacken. i could no longer feel your warm skin against mine. you let me go. and now i am falling, and as i fall i looked unto your beautiful face. but your eyes were blank. expressionless. blunt. apathetic. nothing could describe it now except the word cold. but why?

i was so stupid. i fooled myself into thinking that someone like you could love a tin can. you have a heart right? but you just can’t. and now everything becomes clear as i fall. i was falling and as i hit the bottom of the cold trash can, i looked up thinking you would have a second look. but you didn’t. if i had eyes, there would be tears flowing from them right now. and if i had a heart, i have no doubt that it’s now broken. but i don’t have such hollow organ because i am a tin can. hollow. useless. trash. together with all the ugliest things in the world.

if i had ears i would be listening to your footsteps. i have none but still i can hear. you’re in hurry now because the rain had grown stronger and angry at you. walk faster. don’t mind the mud that might stain you. you walked faster. you are walking so fast now. as fast as the heart you once been able to beat for you…slow and fast at the same time…

run! you don’t want to be late. i hope you get there.

. . .

i saw a beggar and a beautiful lady on my way home from morayta, earlier today. thought i could make something out of the experience.

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