Every genuine work of art has as much reason for being as the earth and the sun.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I spoke to myself in whispers beneath the trees. Admiring the solace in which silence absorbed me. Having no illusions of what was to come, the beauty of the sky baffled me. The colors all mixing, a dying sun and the blues that came. Each star a tear as they saw their King fall, their queen their only throne. Crystals form when he has been taken to many times. Thunder falls from the heavens striking anyone who dares cry.
Such an amazing feat I wondered why I still breathed. Touching my lips as the blues took over. Devouring the light which so denied them the right of life. Enjoying the death of their oppressor, I swear there was a gleam somewhere in there.
A gentle lick down its spine and the colors are gone, the darkness sets. It waits for revenge but sits in glee. For at least it will savor victory even if it is for a second.
I wonder if what we are feeling is just a fantasy. Showing you my thighs and seeing your spine. Writing intricate symbols in your ribs, each kissing your heart and lungs. Our lies being weaved with words that we have lost meaning of. Our desires to mingle with a lost soul, changing the perception we thought of our collarbones. Kissing only in images rather than actuality. Ripping the lights from fireflies, and trying to illumante an impossible dream. Watching the birth of a sun with touches of a dying torch. We hug naked wishing our bones would intertwined and find solace in a carcass long gone.
I don’t want to this to be an illusion. Still I wonder, two master of the art of deceiving, can they truly be one? Washing our hair, two natural opposites never truly conceiving only seeing . Our tears are bittersweet, just like those lips that told me to sleep.
If we could only dig through all the infestation and find our answers. I wonder if our scars are melting and putting stars in our eyes. Laughing as our downfall is plotted and we can do absolutely nothing.
No matter how much we sing, we become mute to our doubt.
I stuffed everything I was
into a little box
no more would I see
the things that burden me
charged with ultimate treason
I forgot reason
caught the swarm
yet I never saw the coming storm
a blind metamorphosis occurred
everything blurred
the little box fled from sight
I cried till night
I was left in solitude
with my empty memories.
I am a weak woman. I have nothing to offer but my soul that resides inside of me. A being that dies each day with the passing of the leaves. No true God resides in this domain. I use to believe that I would one day take over this dreaded world and becomes its queen. Killing anyone who dare oppose my reign. An odd child from the start but everything changed when I met you. No it wasn’t instant, I will be truthful. I still remember the first you wrote to me. I was so happy and decided to take the leap. After that I could have sworn I touched you. Not in this psychical world but in the spiritual plane we enter each night.
When I had that dream of you that fateful day, I knew we would meet. Filled with happiness that I painted it with words of a high caliber. Closed my eyes and I saw your smile. Wondering if maybe the slave was being a bit too forward. I dare dream the day I would kiss those pink lips of yours and touch your sun kissed hair. I knew my dreams were nothing but mist. I only hoped they would become tangible as time grew. I write to you at night because it is the only time when I am free.
The time when I can write you my heart and give you my soul. I am hard person to love, a bit scatter brain I am afraid. I dare not ask of marriage nor a bond. Only a string that will always lead me to you. So I know that you are okay. That you breathe and the light of this world still burns. I will not lie to my you lovely, for I have yet to grow as strong. I tend to hide from the doctors and if anything I am the perfect actress. I learned well from all those plays I use to do. I still remember the words I said to that school boy that wanted my hand. He thought he could save me too but I spoke words that broke his heart. It might do the same to you but I think you will understand.
“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be save.”
Maybe this is not the truth but it is the current thought inside of me. Festering inside my wounds never healing right. One day I shall get better or I will die. Either way know that my love for you has grown and those lovely words always go inside of me. Expanding and helping me live through this rather obtuse world. I smile when I see drawings of you. I had long forgotten what it meant to look at a beautiful soul. You warm up these old eyes and this frozen body. I shall kiss you in the innocence of a dying sun, while the moon is being born.
Thank you Mistress, for touching my essence at the right time.
Sincerely,
your rather verbose slave.
I want to touch someone with my words. That have been written with bloody nails and malnourished fingers. I want them to grasp the essence that I so transmit through this medium in which I express the stories of the voices inside my head. I want everyone to kiss and murder what I have written. As they read they find out that even they are fiction, fiction that is dying. Grasping their humanity by the hand they throw themselves into the abyss that is my mind.
In a way I just want someone to understand what is going inside. I want to know that I am not going insane and that I am just an overemotional child. A kiss that wakes me up and makes me live.
Those letters you write one by one, make something
that is deep within us, talking to my dead heart
making fiction from vowels coming out of your mouth
into your crooked fingers
I don’t think you understand how moved you make me
with those simple scriptures always tears in my eyes,
an everlasting moisture seeping through my skin
the ink is poisoning me
accepting only yours now, speak to me…write to me
a show of your adoration which brings me to my knees
doing as you please touch me with your words
so I can eternally sleep.
I fall in love with words
then fall out when they speak.
I remembered the first time I met her. She smelled of spring, it seemed to embrace her. No tears on her beautiful face only rain. The sun was shining yet water befell us. She looked at me from behind that book she always read. Her smile like the mother moon that disgraced me. The pain so acute I winced when she touched me. An expression of surprise and then regret enters her face. She tries to leave but I grabbed her wrist. I say I am sorry, just a bad day I reply.
We talk about things we love and things we do not. She is part gypsy she told me, her brown skin glowing lightly in the spring’s sun. The rain had stopped when she gave me a peck in the cheek. She told me to wait for her here next week. Just like that she left me with only the smells of violets ever telling me she was real. The whispers of tree told me nothing of what I would find the next week only glimpses of passionate kisses.
We met every week after that slowly falling for a woman that had entranced me. Her name was Luna, the irony did not escape me. One night I came to our park. A reminder that good things were possible in this hellish drenched world. Walking by the pond I saw Luna. She stood in the middle looking at the moon, hypnotized by its beauty. I watched her with curiosity. Then the spirit of the moon came down to her. My mother’s retched scent mixing with Luna’s beautiful violets. I wanted to run and get her out of there. Such an exquisite flower should never be in front of such a malevolent force. The next words stopped me though.
“Make my son fall in love with you and your lover shall be healed of all illness.” Those words breaking my humanity.
“Of course Mother Moon. It shall be done.” Her voice, a sound of lies.
When Mother Moon’s spirit disappeared I stood in front of the pond. Waiting for her to turn around and see that her deception would be no more. Her eyes where the first to take me in. A child caught in the act of misdeeds. Gasping in surprise as she stood there in water facing me.. She closes her eyes and then looks at me. Her eyes held no warmth as they usually did. Not that I expected anything more than a woman who had sold her soul. Hatred then starts to burn, looking at me as if I were the sole reason her life was miserable.
“Why?” It was the only word that could come out of my mouth. Too many emotions running around my head.
“I had to save him. I loved him but he is dying. He has cancer and it is progressing rapidly. I had prayed to Mother Moon every night until she finally came to me. She told me if I could make you fall in love with me then she would heal him… I am sorry.” She vowed her head in shame but her hand was a tight fist.
I looked at her with eyes of pity and betrayal. I did not know who to persecute, her or my mother. I smiled, one that showed how I had been broken one to many times.
“It’s okay. I will tell Mother Moon to heal your lover, don’t worry the stipulation she has put is now void.” I said as my voice cracked.
All she did was run away from as if I were the devil. Leaving me only the smell of spring and those violets I loved so much. My heart was not in the right place anymore. I felt pain that was so real I felt like someone was scalping me. I looked at the moon, a wicked gleam shined. That’s when white dust started to form her, my mother.
Her golden white hair seems to light up like pale fire. Her cold blue eyes looked at me as if I were just another worshipper. She smiled at me; she enjoyed watching me in pain. It was her favorite pass time. No matter how old I grew.
“You felt for it again my child. No matter how old you get that heart of you still wishes to be with a human.” She said sardonically.
“I just want someone to spend eternity with mother. Why must you always try to trick me into giving up?”
“It will end fruitless. Humans are fragile and they die. We do not, we are ageless. We have ascended and they have not. We have no jurisdiction into advancing their evolution and that is what you will do if you fall for one. Especially if she is smart enough into taking advantage of your position, Sol.”
“Let her lover live and I shall never meet with her again.” Those words barely leaving my mouth.
“Fine. Although this is just going happen again in a few centuries, my dear.” A mischievous cold smile on her pale face.
“You will never understand Mother. I just want to be loved, something you never gave me. Never! Was I not conceived by a human and you?” I practically spat at her feet.
“That was a mistake my son.” With those last few daggers being thrown I was left alone.
The full moon mocking my whole existence, a reminder of something I never wished to know. I stayed there in the pond. Where the only remembrance was a hint of the violet scent and the ripples that stilled lingered with her essence. I did not cry, I only prayed. That one day I would find my reality that I could cherish with my other counterpart. Someone meant for me. Someone that was more than trickery, a piece of nonfiction that was not dead.
Prompt: notsospiffywhat ’violets’
