Love Me On A Bed Made Of Your Skin :: Dahlia
Jun 6, 2013 20:23:55 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Jun 6, 2013 20:23:55 GMT -5
| [bg=F3F4F8][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style,width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2d6lamw.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-left:40px; padding-right:40px; padding-top:40px; border-left:1px solid #000000; border-right:1px solid #000000; border-top:1px solid #000000; -moz-border-radius-topright: 25px; border-radius-topright: 25px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 25px; border-radius-topleft: 25px;opacity: 1;] I think I felt it, but — oh, stupid girl — I didn't know what it was until now. Like the pulling of stitches, quiet and easy to overlook, my soul had been unraveling until the seams split and now everything has spilled out all at once. Pop. Pop. POP. Each loss a tug at my heart, all this time I was coming loose and didn't even realize. I thought it was alright when I lost my mother, that I would be fine because I still had purpose and her leaving couldn't destroy that no matter how hurt I felt. My life was always meant to be bigger than my body, after all, the gift of a girl to a holy cathedral and then — Where Kaelen went, I couldn't help but follow. My purpose changed and my father surely hated me for leaving him, for leaving everything he had wanted for me. I didn't care though, because to abandon my fate as an anchorite had been the first choice I had ever made for myself, for something I wanted. It was a selfish decision and, strangely, I felt more beautiful for it. Within me was the kind of love I had never been shown and that was enough, even when Kaelen left me in the forest to die. I had always been willing to die for a worthy cause. Only, I survived and so I knew that when I found him again — my lover; my leaver — that I would finally be worthy. All my life, I had been raised to have faith in endings and now that the end had come and gone, it would be time for beginnings. Surely I felt a stitch come free when I awoke, the poison cleared from my veins and a heavy breath still lingering in my lungs. That small POP must have sounded as I stretched my limbs for the first time in days, like cracking joints, and I just couldn't hear it over the whispering voice of the wanderer who had nursed me back to health. This time I wouldn't have to die for him to prove myself. I had already laid myself out on an altar of dried leaves and pale grass for him, my last breath an offering to his name, and now he would know the meaning of enough. Proof was discovered when my body found his arms once more, as he gathered me into the warmth of his hold and the sincerity of his touch told me I hadn't been wrong. With him — this time — I was wanted. Worth. Worth was something my decisions now possessed, even when I found out my father had died, even when I felt another stitch unravel in his memory... even when the familiarity of his passing struck a chord that sounded too much like an echo of Kaelen's hands. All at once, we had left and so did the man who had raised me with these twisted ideals, graceless as we fell in our own ways. Still, I couldn't regret anything, not with my purpose restored and so fully justified. It was only the quiet that nagged at me, a series of in-between moments that stretched until the minutes of separation were too much and I found myself at Kaelen's door, letting myself in so that I could be rid of the emptiness of another hour spent too far away. Pacing in the quiet, like a cat sealed into a wall with no fate for escape, the passing of time was no longer a countdown, but just... the passing. Like my mother. Like my father. Like another stitch undone. Like — I don't know why you're here or who you are. I don't cry; I hyperventilate. The rest of the words don't matter and I can't read them anyway, my vision turning hazy as I gasp and gasp for oxygen that my lungs have forgotten, losing consciousness and being glad for it. There is a blade within my throat, brutal with its many teeth of sorrow that claw at my windpipe until I feel as though I must be breathing so much blood it's as if I am underwater. The last of the air I possess bubbles up and out, a confession that sounds like: I wanted you to love me in the name of my sins, to hold me for darkness, to cry out — Tourniquet! — as you reached for me as if you were speaking in tongues yet meaning my name. Old wolf of betrayal, I thought you were done wearing my heart around your neck like severed heads. Clotted blood and hooked fingers, I loved you like you hated yourself and wept for joy as you held me on a bed made of your skin. Call for me once more as though I deserve it; I can't come home again. I don't know why you're here or who you are. Kaelen's letter of farewell slips like his ghost from my fingers, but I hit the ground first — a heavy weight that echoes in the silence, broken stitches and release. No one is around to hear it. |
