butterfly
It started with a smile. We like to think that smiling symbolizes happiness; joy. The wolf smiles before dinner. Its smile promises rent flesh and crimson savagery. This is the story of a little red riding hood. I am the wolf. My actions have precluded any further meaning of time. And so, after this moment, now that moment, nothing else matters. Let me tell you what did matter. Love mattered. Early on a Summer day, the wind stirring the trees mattered. My lips against hers mattered. I was never very romantic, but I could still feel something on those days. It was pure, not a fake red rose, nor cheap white wine. It was an instant beyond the phony laughter and the trite conversation. It is our great curse that a single moment can hold more meaning than any day, any month, any year. We dedicate ourselves to those perfect seconds. The dedications are our poetry, our songs, our tears. How bittersweet it is.
In any case, she mattered. Every freckle on her face mattered. You might think that you understand, but you don't. We met in the rain, underneath the slight awning of a bus stop. We huddled together, seeking respite from the falling moisture. Just the two of us there, it was more like respite from the world. It began with a smile, that was it.
That was everything.
There was something else that mattered: fear. Perhaps it didn't actually matter, but it was important. Semantics aside, fear is the antithesis of love. Hate may be the obvious choice, but it cannot oppose love. Hate is frivolous and meaningless. It's misdirected passion on the path of futility. Fear is much more powerful. Fear is the only emotion that can dare to challenge love. It drags at love at all times, seeking to bring it to waste within the mire. This is our true weakness. I feared the cold when she was gone. I feared fading. I was greedy for my precious moments. I only mention this because I want you to understand that this was not perfect bliss. It was a slight departure from a flawless romantic fantasy.
It ended where it began, at that same rainy bus stop. As every moment from the end of time reaches towards me, I find the middle has faded. It ended with a kiss. Our lips were parted by the car slamming into her body, throwing me aside. I can still see her eyes, they flash as she's ripped away. She was gone before I made it to her crumpled body. Her limbs were twisted, but her face pointed at the clouds. This was all that was left to me. The blood dripping from the car pooled into her parted lips. One last smile. What did this one mean? I walked home afterwards, my fists shaking under the relentless sky. I wondered what she was thinking about as finality embraced her. I like to imagine the last thought before death stretching to infinity. Immortality in a day-dream. This is mine. I've severed this existence with the question at the end of a rope. There is no answer, just a fading echo, and a smile.
In any case, she mattered. Every freckle on her face mattered. You might think that you understand, but you don't. We met in the rain, underneath the slight awning of a bus stop. We huddled together, seeking respite from the falling moisture. Just the two of us there, it was more like respite from the world. It began with a smile, that was it.
That was everything.
There was something else that mattered: fear. Perhaps it didn't actually matter, but it was important. Semantics aside, fear is the antithesis of love. Hate may be the obvious choice, but it cannot oppose love. Hate is frivolous and meaningless. It's misdirected passion on the path of futility. Fear is much more powerful. Fear is the only emotion that can dare to challenge love. It drags at love at all times, seeking to bring it to waste within the mire. This is our true weakness. I feared the cold when she was gone. I feared fading. I was greedy for my precious moments. I only mention this because I want you to understand that this was not perfect bliss. It was a slight departure from a flawless romantic fantasy.
It ended where it began, at that same rainy bus stop. As every moment from the end of time reaches towards me, I find the middle has faded. It ended with a kiss. Our lips were parted by the car slamming into her body, throwing me aside. I can still see her eyes, they flash as she's ripped away. She was gone before I made it to her crumpled body. Her limbs were twisted, but her face pointed at the clouds. This was all that was left to me. The blood dripping from the car pooled into her parted lips. One last smile. What did this one mean? I walked home afterwards, my fists shaking under the relentless sky. I wondered what she was thinking about as finality embraced her. I like to imagine the last thought before death stretching to infinity. Immortality in a day-dream. This is mine. I've severed this existence with the question at the end of a rope. There is no answer, just a fading echo, and a smile.