verity.
i cannot help but remember life before him. i would come home from school with my left knuckles bleeding courtesy of the back of a meter stick because i refused to change for them. for a while, i thought the worst part of growing up would be writing with the wrong hand.
if only my blood could have learned to stop flowing then.
aaron.
she was the girl who never spoke in contractions; the girl who was always seen doodling stars on her skin because it was the only way she knew how to make them real; the girl who always came to school with bloodstains under her vest because she wanted people to know the truth about religion. she was gossamer and terracotta skin and yet i have never seen anyone more subtle.
i was always afraid that if i looked at her too long her eyes would shatter and that i would be to blame. even though i was young i knew that things that were both rare and beautiful had a tendency to get maimed, and that was considered luck.
verity.
at first, i thought he was like all the other boys at our school: an uncouth pig whose mother claimed to be a devout christian but never taught her son that no means no and that most girls want to be pure. that was the only experience i ever had with boys and had no reason to believe he should be different.
i was looking at him on the last day of junior high. he was writing his name in the mud with the tip of his left pointer finger and i guess that was what drew me in. i approached him carefully; i think he thought that i was trying to avoid getting my uniform dirty but i was really trying to protect myself from rough hands and waterlogged eyes. i asked him if his teachers scolded him for writing how he did; he said no and explained to the ground how his father is a doctor and "wants the best for our lord's children."
he made the word 'corruption' tangible.
aaron.
one night, months later, she called me crying because her blood wasn't flowing properly and i was the only one she trusted enough with her secrets because i fidget when i'm embarrassed. she told me how her stepfather beat her until her eyes turned coral instead of bloodshot and how her mother took his side because the concept of a human shield reminded her of the tabernacle.
then she had to go because her parents were coming home and she didn't want them to know she had an escape route.
i listened to the dial tone, hoping her voice would come back through the earpiece but all i could hear were her screams echoing in my mind and his voice cutting deep into her skin like nails signaling the commence of a crucifixion.
but it wasn't like she could save herself.
verity.
he called the cops and for a split second i thought i might be saved, but then i remembered apathy was safer than love. theatric talent came naturally to my broken family and i discovered two idiotic policemen giving my parents a standing ovation for their chilling tale starring a lonely, psychotic, mentally-fucked fifteen-year-old who yanked out her hair and bruised herself purple and cut herself until her skin was raw, all because she found the world to be dark and cold and loveless and she was too weak to face her problems. convincing tears sprang from their eyes because they "have no way to help her" and i think the obvious lack of a dress rehearsal was what persuaded these men to forgo their investigation and take me far away from the confines of my misery.
aaron.
i don't think teenage guys have an intuition but i knew something was wrong. on a whim, i drove to the outskirts of town but it was anyone's guess where she had been taken. i was blasting jaded love songs and crying and praying to god that she didn't blame me but i figured she didn't even want god to know where the blame truly belonged.
i found her watching the sunrise through a chain-link fence. i was kind of scared to look at her but i wasn't sure if it was because i felt guilty or because i was scared to see her mangled body.
verity.
i knew the figure coming toward me was him, because no one else walked with that type of gloomy, observational, rhythmic step. i could sense a tear slithering down his face and i could almost see his brain practicing what to say to me.
"verity?" he choked.
he was staring at me in that curious-but-trying-to-be-listless sort of manner, but i took him in despondently, listening to his hollow breathing and eyeing him work his hand up the fence so it was level with my face.
"i'm s--"
"stop."
it was all i could manage right then, but it would have to do.
aaron.
she looked like she was unable to speak more than one syllable at a time, so i took a step back but kept my hand clenched around the fence.
"no, listen to me. i never wanted it to be like this, verity. i never wanted to see you hurt or in pain or gasping for air because you didn't have enough oxygen when he was around. i always knew something was wrong, always, just by the way i saw you looking at the world. i saw the bruises on your cheek and how you never cared to hide them but i never knew if you wanted someone to reach out to you or if you were too cold to care, but i should have fucking done something sooner. i should have fucking stopped him."
verity.
i blinked twice and bowed my head.
"stop. you won, but you also lost."
"what do you mean?"
"i am dead, aaron. i have never really lived a single day of my life, but i have known the way you have been looking at me for the past nine years. you have been living for me, living through me. you have known all along, deep inside the inner corners of your heart, that i was hopeless. perhaps when the bruises fade and the cuts heal and my hair is even once again, perhaps then i can truly live, but i fear that you have used me as life support for so long that you will no longer be able to. we can no longer see each other, aaron, not for a long time anyway. and perhaps, four years from now when i am more than just a fraction of a person, perhaps i can come for you. but from now on, you will need to start living for yourself."
aaron.
i found myself crying again, because every word she said was true but i'd never noticed it before now. i didn't want to leave her standing there alone but she was right; it was for her good as well as mine. i could only respond with emotions, so i kept my mouth shut. she reached up and put her fingertips around mine in a comforting sort of way.
"i love you," i said without thinking.
she looked up at me and inhaled deeply, as though she was struggling with something she'd been avoiding her whole life.
"don't."
her eyes shattered as she walked away.
Author notes
A u g u s t S t a r l i g h t
http://pavlova.deviantart.com/art/The-ways-of-love-23408858
title was prompt as well.
words used (in order): gossamer, terracotta, coral, tabernacle, apathy, theatric, investigation
In a list
- The *Best* Prose on the Site • next in list
- prose. • next in list
- gold//silver. • next in list
- pure fiction. • next in list
- bronze//honorable mention. • next in list
- friends of August Starlight group list • next in list
A contest entry
- Impress etoile and I - and this is harder than it looks :P by letters to no one.
1050 points, ended September 9, 23 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - For Those Who Have Won Gold In Contests of Mine♥ by Kathraina.
480 points, ended October 6, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - the arc-en-ciel rounds. auditions. by cirque du soleil.
800 points, ended November 15, 50 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - The moolight shown upon us as if to put a spotlight on your flawlless face I adore entirely too much.. by Beautiful Sin-.
400 points, ended September 24, 24 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - sierra mist kisses; rounds contest: round one by wraven.
400 points, ended November 20, 16 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critiques?
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Excellent
I've no words except EXCELLENT, fabulous well done, bravo!
Best wishes,
Mou :-)
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wow. i cannot.... express my utmost.....*sigh* this is amazing. with a capital A. my favorite of your poems.... astounding. goodluck (not that you need it with this poem) &&amazing write.
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thank you !
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aaron describing verity: "she was gossamer and terracotta skin and yet i have never seen anyone more subtle." This is stunning work, Poet. And the rest...completely harrowing. This is just too damned good. Your writing, the story line, the imagery, your eloquence of speech, the character development, etc. Hell. I have encountered younger writers who have a modicum of genius before, but you...Keep writing. Don't ever stop. SERIOUSLY. This world needs all the artists it can hold. 
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thank you ,
so so much !
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verity.
i cannot help but remember life before him. i would come home from school with my left knuckles bleeding courtesy of the back of a meter stick because i refused to change for them. for a while, i thought the worst part of growing up would be writing with the wrong hand.
if only my blood could have learned to stop flowing then.
i love the two different voices, but you stole my heart from the beginning with this write because this was my favorite part. well written. -
one night, months later, she called me crying because her blood wasn't flowing properly and i was the only one she trusted enough with her secrets because i fidget when i'm embarrassed. she told me how her stepfather beat her until her eyes turned coral instead of bloodshot and how her mother took his side because the concept of a human shield reminded her of the tabernacle.
then she had to go because her parents were coming home and she didn't want them to know she had an escape route.
i listened to the dial tone, hoping her voice would come back through the earpiece but all i could hear were her screams echoing in my mind and his voice cutting deep into her skin like nails signaling the commence of a crucifixion.
but it wasn't like she could save herself.
verity.
he called the cops and for a split second i thought i might be saved, but then i remembered apathy was safer than love. theatric talent came naturally to my broken family and i discovered two idiotic policemen giving my parents a standing ovation for their chilling tale starring a lonely, psychotic, mentally-fucked fifteen-year-old who yanked out her hair and bruised herself purple and cut herself until her skin was raw, all because she found the world to be dark and cold and loveless and she was too weak to face her problems. convincing tears sprang from their eyes because they "have no way to help her" and i think the obvious lack of a dress rehearsal was what persuaded these men to forgo their investigation and take me far away from the confines of my misery.
-I can realate. I felt every emotion in these lines.
"i love you," i said without thinking.
she looked up at me and inhaled deeply, as though she was struggling with something she'd been avoiding her whole life.
"don't."
-God.. What a great ending..
I normally give up on this much reading, but I'm so glad I didn't stop on this one. You had me hooked from the start.
Great write!
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I was a bit nervous to enter it because I don't normally read poems that long either. I'm glad you like it.
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I love it. So much. As you know it's one of the 2 written things that have made me cry in my entire life. The other piece of literature that caused me to shed tears was the end of Stephen King's "Bag of Bones" so feel proud of yourself.
I could read this over and over and never get tired of it. It's amazing.
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this is so, so sad, and I can really relate. just to the part about how she can't be around him because she's not strong enough and he needs to live on his own.
your imagery and metaphors are amazing, and the emotion was so strong and painful. the ending is heartwrenching and I love how you paint the image of aaron writing in the mud. great job with this, it's beautiful.
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that's a major compliment, thank you. =]
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awies, you're welcome. :]
*hugs*
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O.O
this. is. so. SAD :'(
i loved this so much. i think im gonna bookmark this, actually.
"i love you," i said without thinking.
she looked up at me and inhaled deeply, as though she was struggling with something she'd been avoiding her whole life.
"don't."
-god. that kind of hurt.
but i figured she didn't even want god to know where the blame truly belonged.
-that too.
wow. amazing.
♥
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"to see her her mangled body." ---> you wrote "her" twice.
"it was for her good as well as mine." ----> i think the "mine" should be "me".
Also, the last stanza starting with "verity" you failed to skip a line between verity and the following sentence, only a small thing, but aesthetically it would look better and keeps with the continuity of the piece -
Wow. This is amazing. Jeez. So brutal in imagery and emotion. You have done a fantastic job with the prompt. Best of luck in the contest.
Write on.
~*~SP~*~ -
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i wrote more if you want to read it. =]
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Message me when this is 100% finished =]
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it's finished, finally.
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