R.I.P.
I know you are coming, I see your shadowy figures breaking apart the sky to allow your presence. I feel you. This decision he made was not just about me, I know this. This decision was his final signing on the line in blood.
And yet, God asked you--again and again and again---are you sure? And each time you said yes, and sank the knife blade into my white outfit again, staining it deeply with blood. I was merely the representational object for this event, this demon pact, was signed. By killing your love for me, by killing all the love we once had, by sacrificing me, you signed. And I shudder knowing the contract you signed. Not just a pact, a pact signable only upon shedding the blood of an innocent. And not any innocent, but someone you care deeply for, is a weighty contract indeed, and one whose gifts will never equal the price to be paid.
And I stand mute. I never thought it would be you, never dreamed you could have done this. Never you. Never.
And you killed me in public, in utter humiliation, for hours you killed me as people watched and looked at the erotic art. Still, I am given the solace of having never let it show. I shone that night, I was beauty and I strutted and sashayed like I never have before. I glowed. And you couldn't feign ignorance, could you? Couldn't escape from the result of your actions. A sea of black---me in pure white---you could not escape seeing me. Still you stabbed. At any moment you could have stopped. You didn't. With ever stab, you fell further from me into the beckoning darkness.
And yet, when I drove home, the event finally done, the repercussions hitting me---you are now dead to me, I sobbed. I drove with help and I thank whoever got me home safe. I collapsed on the bathroom floor, sobbing, stricken. I still have yet to eat.
And now you are dead to me. I hope and pray that it won't be forever, but five years? That's what God told me, five years. And then I received the if......."you should know there's a chance he won't come back." Justin killed himself knowingly, willfully and purposely. I don't think it would be that. I think we both know all the ways in which you would 'accidentally' kill yourself with a myriad of substances.
My words mean nothing to you now, but still I will send them. I will send them because I love you and you need to know what that love has meant to me, what beauty you brought to my life. I will send them because I pray that you will return to me---having finally battled, fought and defeated the demons you have raged against your entire life.
And now I speak to your beautiful shaman soul, you god-shard that is covering its face out of shame. Do you remember the necklace I bought you for Christmas? Beautiful silver and a white pearl? Or was it a moonstone? Keep it with you, keep it safe. It is filled with my love and is the only part of me you can take with you on your journey to the dark. Hide it, because forces will try to destroy it. God, grant him this one final gift, one of your favored sons, allow him to keep this.
Let yourself go now, go as far as you can. But go to the bottom. Don't stop until you reach it. And don't think in moments of despair no bottom exists. It is there waiting for you with it's cold, it's hardess, it's very matter solidity. It is the cold bathroom tile when you've had too much to drink, the cool porcelain of the bathtub soothing your hot skin. Rest there and know you have attained the nadir.
Now you can begin the road back.
Don't opt out, I beg of you. I want to see you again, and I want to see you whole. Give me that promise, that from this you will return to me. Give me this one final gift. Give it to me as a testament to the love we shared. Don't die.
When you arrive, years from now, to that dark, silent place at the bottom, completely and totally alone, at that moment you will remember my gift, my pearl. It will find you, being guided by my love, or you will find it, being guided by God's. Hold it close to you and let God back into your heart, let me back into your heart. Remember who you were when we were together,when everyone said you changed and blossomed. Don't stop there. Remember who you were before, before you were born, before your parents found you---remember who you were---then bring the shattered pieces together into something whole, and true and resonant with the harmony of the Universe. Become the self you have always been.
Then, find me.
Rebeca
And yet, God asked you--again and again and again---are you sure? And each time you said yes, and sank the knife blade into my white outfit again, staining it deeply with blood. I was merely the representational object for this event, this demon pact, was signed. By killing your love for me, by killing all the love we once had, by sacrificing me, you signed. And I shudder knowing the contract you signed. Not just a pact, a pact signable only upon shedding the blood of an innocent. And not any innocent, but someone you care deeply for, is a weighty contract indeed, and one whose gifts will never equal the price to be paid.
And I stand mute. I never thought it would be you, never dreamed you could have done this. Never you. Never.
And you killed me in public, in utter humiliation, for hours you killed me as people watched and looked at the erotic art. Still, I am given the solace of having never let it show. I shone that night, I was beauty and I strutted and sashayed like I never have before. I glowed. And you couldn't feign ignorance, could you? Couldn't escape from the result of your actions. A sea of black---me in pure white---you could not escape seeing me. Still you stabbed. At any moment you could have stopped. You didn't. With ever stab, you fell further from me into the beckoning darkness.
And yet, when I drove home, the event finally done, the repercussions hitting me---you are now dead to me, I sobbed. I drove with help and I thank whoever got me home safe. I collapsed on the bathroom floor, sobbing, stricken. I still have yet to eat.
And now you are dead to me. I hope and pray that it won't be forever, but five years? That's what God told me, five years. And then I received the if......."you should know there's a chance he won't come back." Justin killed himself knowingly, willfully and purposely. I don't think it would be that. I think we both know all the ways in which you would 'accidentally' kill yourself with a myriad of substances.
My words mean nothing to you now, but still I will send them. I will send them because I love you and you need to know what that love has meant to me, what beauty you brought to my life. I will send them because I pray that you will return to me---having finally battled, fought and defeated the demons you have raged against your entire life.
And now I speak to your beautiful shaman soul, you god-shard that is covering its face out of shame. Do you remember the necklace I bought you for Christmas? Beautiful silver and a white pearl? Or was it a moonstone? Keep it with you, keep it safe. It is filled with my love and is the only part of me you can take with you on your journey to the dark. Hide it, because forces will try to destroy it. God, grant him this one final gift, one of your favored sons, allow him to keep this.
Let yourself go now, go as far as you can. But go to the bottom. Don't stop until you reach it. And don't think in moments of despair no bottom exists. It is there waiting for you with it's cold, it's hardess, it's very matter solidity. It is the cold bathroom tile when you've had too much to drink, the cool porcelain of the bathtub soothing your hot skin. Rest there and know you have attained the nadir.
Now you can begin the road back.
Don't opt out, I beg of you. I want to see you again, and I want to see you whole. Give me that promise, that from this you will return to me. Give me this one final gift. Give it to me as a testament to the love we shared. Don't die.
When you arrive, years from now, to that dark, silent place at the bottom, completely and totally alone, at that moment you will remember my gift, my pearl. It will find you, being guided by my love, or you will find it, being guided by God's. Hold it close to you and let God back into your heart, let me back into your heart. Remember who you were when we were together,when everyone said you changed and blossomed. Don't stop there. Remember who you were before, before you were born, before your parents found you---remember who you were---then bring the shattered pieces together into something whole, and true and resonant with the harmony of the Universe. Become the self you have always been.
Then, find me.
Rebeca