Untitled+Misery

In a broken reverie we meet again. The darkness of the concealing rain sparks an interest in you still, but not enough to seclude the shadows. The promise of tomorrow and the backlash of today were once so bright, but are now jaded and have faded to a melancholy grey. There isn’t even any color anymore in your eyes. Since I know looking into your eyes is like peering into a mendacious mirror, I realize my eyes have withered as well. What does that say about our souls?

A veil of unforgiving frost richly drapes the grounds we once stood on with microscopic crystals of lost faith and bleeding prayers. Crackling rose petals, brittle and dried out with age, surround our ankles and smother me with the stale aroma of last summer, but it’s not enough to wash the flattened memories of you away.

The blistered lips of yesterday blow shriveled kisses to me, awaiting my next move. Yesterday’s scathed hands grip on to me, begging me to dance with her once more… but my feet are bound by fear of tomorrow and of losing you. I look into your vacant eyes once more for comfort but find nothing but thorns. I turn around with a questioning look on my face, and find Yesterday gone. The kisses linger in the mist, stepping around my soul, but another look into your eyes singes them into inexistance. The ropes around my ankles turn into vines, sucking at my energy and innocence, pulling me to you, and pushing me away from all I have been taught. Incoherence binds my wrists and rips screams from my throat, but you don’t even hear me.

A jagged gust of air sweeps through, rustling your hair and blowing the decrepit rose petals away. I’m calling your name, biting and scratching at hopes to wake up, but this is not a dream. In fact, the only dreams to possess my mind lately are the fairy-tales of "happily ever after" and "once upon a time", shallow vows to love me until the end. Silence now punctuates the beginning of the end, and I fumble faithlessly for something fresh to say… but I can’t speak. I can’t move.

The rain continues to pour down on me from above, but the clouds no longer hold water. The dust of decaying thorns and wishes rain on me now. I move my neck as much as I can and attempt to open my eyes, but they have been painted shut. It doesn’t matter, really. I know you’re gone. You have been for quite some time now. The prayers continue to drip toxic blood, and soon I know I’m swimming in it. I can feel it wash over my legs, pour over my hair and flood my nostrils and mouth, asphyxiating and erasing me. I soon realize I’m invisible to everyone else now… even to myself.
[Even Yesterday cannot see me anymore.]