sixteen- Last Chance
"Our passions are the true phoenixes; when the old one is burnt out, a new one rises from its ashes." -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
This is for
brandywine421 who wanted something to read. So I used one of her prompts that I really liked and just went with it. It's been a while since I tried anything that wasn't of the essay/analysis variety. Consequently, this is a little new for me and ended up rather vague and nonspecific. But I'd like to think it works. Sort of. Hopefully.
Alright, I have no idea what I'm doing with this.
humpty dumpty sat on a wall
it was precarious. it was tentative. from the start it was effervescent but capricious. he should have known better. (oh, he indubitably should have known better.) her presence, that beautiful overlay, was exigent. like a ukrainian easter egg she was perfectly painted; a fine and intricate template that demanded consideration and accommodation.
a penumbra concealing something far more mercurial.
she was not made for a pedestal.
and he was not her buttress.
humpty dumpty had a great fall.
it happened so suddenly. no, actually, it did not. the skein had unfurled and become tangled before his very eyes. the fissures had slowly but surely manifested themselves, ultimately resulting in the inevitable.
but perhaps it was his fault. maybe he was insufficiently observant. there were other things in life. he pushed too hard to fix things, to change things. he had thought he was making her stronger. he had believed that he was doing what was best for her. he believed he was saving her.
it seemed as though she turned into his Scarlet Ibis. he had left her behind. he became - and happily so- distracted by those other things. in the meantime, she cracked. the paint faded. it peeled. the luster had been rubbed to a dun blur by tarnished fingerprints.
and that (once) vibrant yolk spilled everywhere.
all the king's horses and all the king's men
her wanton mother. her pliable father. her unctuous boyfriend (?). his family. their friends. even the pretentious milieu begrudgingly had the grace to look horrified. they had rallied. (too late). the indecipherable forces of that elegant universe had conspired against them.
couldn't put humpty together again.
she wasn't a puzzle that been wrecked by a rambunctious two-year old bulldozer. she wasn't a statue that looked like art even with pieces missing, with curvilinear ends that had become ragged, with the normal inroads of time. she was young yet.
he had to fix her (again). he needed to fix her. because that was what he did best. he was the janitor. he was the superhero in humble disguise. he was clark kent. or at least he wanted to be. wasn't that his purpose in life?
she had taught him so much. she was the bulldozer crashing through his walls. she was the one who made him happy. she had also become dangerously close to turning him into something to be placed on a pedestal. something more dangerous had occurred instead. something more permanent.
but what stung the most -what was the most caustic- was the thought, the specter, which beset his thoughts, his dreams, his future:
"She was my last chance."
This is for
brandywine421 who wanted something to read. So I used one of her prompts that I really liked and just went with it. It's been a while since I tried anything that wasn't of the essay/analysis variety. Consequently, this is a little new for me and ended up rather vague and nonspecific. But I'd like to think it works. Sort of. Hopefully.
Alright, I have no idea what I'm doing with this.
humpty dumpty sat on a wall
it was precarious. it was tentative. from the start it was effervescent but capricious. he should have known better. (oh, he indubitably should have known better.) her presence, that beautiful overlay, was exigent. like a ukrainian easter egg she was perfectly painted; a fine and intricate template that demanded consideration and accommodation.
a penumbra concealing something far more mercurial.
she was not made for a pedestal.
and he was not her buttress.
humpty dumpty had a great fall.
it happened so suddenly. no, actually, it did not. the skein had unfurled and become tangled before his very eyes. the fissures had slowly but surely manifested themselves, ultimately resulting in the inevitable.
but perhaps it was his fault. maybe he was insufficiently observant. there were other things in life. he pushed too hard to fix things, to change things. he had thought he was making her stronger. he had believed that he was doing what was best for her. he believed he was saving her.
it seemed as though she turned into his Scarlet Ibis. he had left her behind. he became - and happily so- distracted by those other things. in the meantime, she cracked. the paint faded. it peeled. the luster had been rubbed to a dun blur by tarnished fingerprints.
and that (once) vibrant yolk spilled everywhere.
all the king's horses and all the king's men
her wanton mother. her pliable father. her unctuous boyfriend (?). his family. their friends. even the pretentious milieu begrudgingly had the grace to look horrified. they had rallied. (too late). the indecipherable forces of that elegant universe had conspired against them.
couldn't put humpty together again.
she wasn't a puzzle that been wrecked by a rambunctious two-year old bulldozer. she wasn't a statue that looked like art even with pieces missing, with curvilinear ends that had become ragged, with the normal inroads of time. she was young yet.
he had to fix her (again). he needed to fix her. because that was what he did best. he was the janitor. he was the superhero in humble disguise. he was clark kent. or at least he wanted to be. wasn't that his purpose in life?
she had taught him so much. she was the bulldozer crashing through his walls. she was the one who made him happy. she had also become dangerously close to turning him into something to be placed on a pedestal. something more dangerous had occurred instead. something more permanent.
but what stung the most -what was the most caustic- was the thought, the specter, which beset his thoughts, his dreams, his future:
"She was my last chance."