How Selfless For Time To Conclude
She sits and waits for the words to come to her. Writing until her fingers turn numb. Swollen. Swollen. Body swollen. Heart swollen. Eyes swollen. Fingers swollen. Words freeze at the tips of her fingers and she sits. Waiting.
He writes from far away.
He writes from across the sea.
He writes: It was never meant to be this way. I never meant to make you feel this way. I never wanted to make you suffer. I only wanted to shield you from the truth. I wanted to keep you far away. I wanted to bury your heart deep beneath the frozen soil.
And so he did. Carrying with no care. No secrecy. He dug up the frozen earth. Deep deep beneath. Betraying her for the first. The last. The only time. Here beneath the ground. The cold, hard ground. He took the memories. A handful of dirt. A kiss to the air. She would be gone. Rid rid rid. He would free her.
She is buried there now. Buried beneath a hundred thousand particles of her past mistakes. She claws at the loose soil. She will make her way out. She will run free.
She writes from behind the foggy glass of a window.
She writes from beneath his ground.
She writes buried beneath him.
She writes: By hiding your life away from me. By running the world to rid your bones of me. By keeping secrets from my honest ears. You lied. You broke a trust. Broke the shackles that you yourself had placed around my wrists. You have only entombed me with your words. Only poisoned my once pure vision of who you were. A world collapsing. A dream that I had let die on my own. A dream that you unearthed. The carcass you carried as a trophy. My dead and dying hopes. Were your gold and diamond treasures. You buried me under your sheets. Trapped me behind your soundproof glass walls. So that I would always be watching, but never speaking. I have kept my silence long enough.
She tears the paper.
She crumples the words in a fist.
He writes.
More.
Like a spark igniting her dry letters she wrote to him.
He pens: Your silence is unwanted. Your words are unwanted. Your presence is unwanted. You are unwanted. You are unwanted. Trapped. But only by your own volition. I have let you go. It is you that holds on. It is you that reaches to me.
Sitting. She stares at ceiling tiles. Counting to 10. Hiding the tears.
The weather has broken.
And so will this.
It all shall pass.
Days.
She writes.
Hours she spends thinking. Short and simple.
Every letter, too long. Too drawn out. Too much. They have drawn this out too long. Pulling blood from a lifeless body.
He has what she once loved.
There is no getting that back.
He.
Nor she.
Can revive that carcass.
She lifts the bottle to her lips.
She scrawls on a piece of paper:
I shall never know peace.
I will only know justice.
I hope she's smiling when she says I do.
He writes from far away.
He writes from across the sea.
He writes: It was never meant to be this way. I never meant to make you feel this way. I never wanted to make you suffer. I only wanted to shield you from the truth. I wanted to keep you far away. I wanted to bury your heart deep beneath the frozen soil.
And so he did. Carrying with no care. No secrecy. He dug up the frozen earth. Deep deep beneath. Betraying her for the first. The last. The only time. Here beneath the ground. The cold, hard ground. He took the memories. A handful of dirt. A kiss to the air. She would be gone. Rid rid rid. He would free her.
She is buried there now. Buried beneath a hundred thousand particles of her past mistakes. She claws at the loose soil. She will make her way out. She will run free.
She writes from behind the foggy glass of a window.
She writes from beneath his ground.
She writes buried beneath him.
She writes: By hiding your life away from me. By running the world to rid your bones of me. By keeping secrets from my honest ears. You lied. You broke a trust. Broke the shackles that you yourself had placed around my wrists. You have only entombed me with your words. Only poisoned my once pure vision of who you were. A world collapsing. A dream that I had let die on my own. A dream that you unearthed. The carcass you carried as a trophy. My dead and dying hopes. Were your gold and diamond treasures. You buried me under your sheets. Trapped me behind your soundproof glass walls. So that I would always be watching, but never speaking. I have kept my silence long enough.
She tears the paper.
She crumples the words in a fist.
He writes.
More.
Like a spark igniting her dry letters she wrote to him.
He pens: Your silence is unwanted. Your words are unwanted. Your presence is unwanted. You are unwanted. You are unwanted. Trapped. But only by your own volition. I have let you go. It is you that holds on. It is you that reaches to me.
Sitting. She stares at ceiling tiles. Counting to 10. Hiding the tears.
The weather has broken.
And so will this.
It all shall pass.
Days.
She writes.
Hours she spends thinking. Short and simple.
Every letter, too long. Too drawn out. Too much. They have drawn this out too long. Pulling blood from a lifeless body.
He has what she once loved.
There is no getting that back.
He.
Nor she.
Can revive that carcass.
She lifts the bottle to her lips.
She scrawls on a piece of paper:
I shall never know peace.
I will only know justice.
I hope she's smiling when she says I do.