Wasting Pages

Optional Playlist:

Blaqk Audio: Deconstructing Gods

Death Stars: Termination Bliss

 

I was so clueless, a spark tragically placed in the dark. You touched your fingertip to my lip. In that moment, I melted. I was enamored.

Pain, it masked the face of darkness as our hands entwined. We watched from the upstairs window as blackbirds flitted from pine tree to pine tree. The silver shadows of those trees slivered across the lake below the hill.

It was a December day, colder than any yet. The sun was crying, for it knew my pleading. Time ached past then, and does so now. I relive each moment. Those words, you muttered them, mystical, and lucid, like a thoughtless dream.

“I must walk away,” you said. “I have drifted away. There is nothing you can do to make me stay.”

I was just another wasted page in your dusty journal. Now, I have written myself carefully in scrawling script. Transfixing black ink gleams on the pages in your mind. Your presence had captivated disaster, and that night you set it free.

I refrained the agonizing scream that pierced my body like shards of ice falling in cold calamity. I sat on the stone steps, bones chilled. My fingernails scratched the surface of my skin as I clung to myself. I bit my lip. I watched you leave.

The midnight moon rose as a solace, smiling upon my desperation. I stood, my legs shook, and I followed the moon’s shimmering smile. I reached out to touch it, its glowing reflection frozen into the surface of the lake.  It took my hand.

Now, I am an imperfect figment. I am here. A still, unbreathing presence.  A shimmering reminder. I am a mirror to your past. I waited here for you, for I knew you would return to take what together we had owned.

My gaze falls on you now, as you look out the window to the open air. I wait for you to see my eyes, two cold black stones, looking up at you from the stairs below.

You drip salty tears, monotonously.  They drown the dust on the oak floor.  In putrid realization you seek salvation in a grief to raw to describe. Your knees lock, your hands shake in an effortless tremble. You caress the air as “sorry” escapes your sculpted lips. I know you see me now, my listless spirit blushes in your presence.

Your heated footsteps moved briskly through our hollow home. You make your way out the door to the stone stairs. Your feet feel like bags of sand, but you stumble after me.

The snow falls today like flower petals of velvet, but despite your tasteless prayers, it will never purify what occurred. That night you strangled me with words that I knew would bring the end. Still, I walk forward to meet you, covered in the tattered filigree of my past life, the shame that you dressed me in.

I motion for you to follow. Your soft hands reach for my shimmering form as you obey me, and move lightly across the grounds. I walked the same path that night, but I had let the stars guide my sore feet. Your mind clamors like an impending disease, thoughts ink their way into your heart. They sicken your judgement, embedding themselves in your recklessness. I disdain this grief. For such grief was it that you poured into my numbing veins.

Footstep by footstep you follow now what you once watched from a distance. On that night, the dead dark of winter rode out into the stars offering a frost bitten hand to my misery.  It is now that my elegy spreads with enmity. It awakes the seething shadows. They unwind with envious glory to take the price of a dying heart.

Feel it now as I did that night. That night was beautiful. Tonight will be beautiful for you. Without hesitation to end my malevolent haunting, you reach toward me, and step out onto the lake. Your eyes become unfathomable.

Imbrued by the shock of our impurities, you crave only to drench yourself in the frozen water, to relieve your skin as it itches with testimony.  Horrid screams echo as the sky burns with bitter-sweet vengeance. With each passing moment the giant mirror cracks. I become more real.  The ice slices chapped skin. The frozen water encases you. The sky is falling. Your lips turn blue. Frozen fingers grasp at your heavy lungs. Your eyelids fall with golden sand.

I embrace you. Here, alone, weightless, you collapse into my arms.

 

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0 thoughts on “Wasting Pages

      1. yes, very much 🙂
        and thankyou for the visit to my blog… woudn’t have found your beautiful blog, otherwise!

        you’ve got a natural thing for writing.. i must say. 🙂

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