(no subject)
title: Phantom Dancer [one-shot]
author: zmphony
pairing: guess.
warnings: none.
disclaimer: it's their story, not mine.
summary: "You never knew who you were."
You never knew who you were.
Faceless and crucified by every eye that took a turn. You only had a rhythm; no beat, no words, you made a pace. But no face.
You were a silent shortage to a heart and made no recognition to revival. You were a holy grail to strangers in the dark. Streetlight spotlights know your every move, but nobody knew just who it was.
You were a nettle, and oh so holy. Spoke of nothing. You looked for something. Not someone.
You needed a creature, just like yourself. The same blood.
I know.
A monster. Angel. Monster. And your footprints were left not only on streets. Souls, too.
I was road kill.
Was it so impossible that you could reach in, teeth and claws, and tear them out like plucking daffodils?
You didn't even leave a mark. You're a stain, you're a curse, you can't relieve yourself.
But above heaven, you're mine.
Every day, every year, you change but remain faceless. You're a whisper. I hear you every night. You kill the loneliness, because lonely isn't what you are. Just alone. It's an echo in the cathedrals you dance in, the ones you always find when you enter another phantom city. When sinners have dispersed and you're left abandoned with only the moonlight tainted by painted glass in that vacant sanctuary to hold you, wreathe its arms around your breakable waist, you dance. Like we danced. You're just about as empty as the building.
You won't confess. Not here. Not to this place. You don't want absolution. You just want somebody to dance with. You want a somebody to absolve you, not a church. To hollow you out, reap the cross you carry that might as well be of your own flesh and the disdain in those memories, worse than shame. The ones you swallow every morning you awake in a strange place.
They are, strange. Not home. Home was where your heart was left. And you left in a flurry. Left it with me. You know I’d never forgive you, I wouldn't. Not when I see the love you make to the night, every night. So desperate.
It's not like ours. You can try, it will never be like ours. You're so pure you don't even know it. You never even knew who you were. But I do. Because you see that creature every day, in every watery reflection and broken glass. And his eyes are just. Like. Mine. You and your washed-up retreats to empty temples, waltzing with shadows and making love to memories, do nothing. Your heart is insatiable. You don't understand why. But I do. It's because I still have it. You left it when you left me.
It's a dying ember when your mind creeps back to it, as you dance in that vacant sanctuary. It's all so familiar. Everything. Even the church looked familiar as you slipped in tonight. You can't remember anything. It's supposed to be gone now.
But I’m not.
My footsteps are acknowledged by the silence as I watch, but you don't hear me. Don't see me. That familiar feeling is too loud, the memories are too loud. I'm not real. You aren't either, to me. Up close, you're a seamless image.
Holographic and torn, and you dance like it too. I know every one of your moves. I know how this will end, too. Maybe it will just begin again, though.
But you can't leave. You can't hide from me anymore. Not if I’ve already found you. I'd found you three long years before you even tried it. You won't disappear.
Your eyes are glass when your waist is laced by my hands. You are cold. It's like a prophecy.
And when we sway, we become spirits. Spirits in a sanctuary.
Because you never knew who you were. That's why I'm here. To remind you. To dance with you.
author: zmphony
pairing: guess.
warnings: none.
disclaimer: it's their story, not mine.
summary: "You never knew who you were."
You never knew who you were.
Faceless and crucified by every eye that took a turn. You only had a rhythm; no beat, no words, you made a pace. But no face.
You were a silent shortage to a heart and made no recognition to revival. You were a holy grail to strangers in the dark. Streetlight spotlights know your every move, but nobody knew just who it was.
You were a nettle, and oh so holy. Spoke of nothing. You looked for something. Not someone.
You needed a creature, just like yourself. The same blood.
I know.
A monster. Angel. Monster. And your footprints were left not only on streets. Souls, too.
I was road kill.
Was it so impossible that you could reach in, teeth and claws, and tear them out like plucking daffodils?
You didn't even leave a mark. You're a stain, you're a curse, you can't relieve yourself.
But above heaven, you're mine.
Every day, every year, you change but remain faceless. You're a whisper. I hear you every night. You kill the loneliness, because lonely isn't what you are. Just alone. It's an echo in the cathedrals you dance in, the ones you always find when you enter another phantom city. When sinners have dispersed and you're left abandoned with only the moonlight tainted by painted glass in that vacant sanctuary to hold you, wreathe its arms around your breakable waist, you dance. Like we danced. You're just about as empty as the building.
You won't confess. Not here. Not to this place. You don't want absolution. You just want somebody to dance with. You want a somebody to absolve you, not a church. To hollow you out, reap the cross you carry that might as well be of your own flesh and the disdain in those memories, worse than shame. The ones you swallow every morning you awake in a strange place.
They are, strange. Not home. Home was where your heart was left. And you left in a flurry. Left it with me. You know I’d never forgive you, I wouldn't. Not when I see the love you make to the night, every night. So desperate.
It's not like ours. You can try, it will never be like ours. You're so pure you don't even know it. You never even knew who you were. But I do. Because you see that creature every day, in every watery reflection and broken glass. And his eyes are just. Like. Mine. You and your washed-up retreats to empty temples, waltzing with shadows and making love to memories, do nothing. Your heart is insatiable. You don't understand why. But I do. It's because I still have it. You left it when you left me.
It's a dying ember when your mind creeps back to it, as you dance in that vacant sanctuary. It's all so familiar. Everything. Even the church looked familiar as you slipped in tonight. You can't remember anything. It's supposed to be gone now.
But I’m not.
My footsteps are acknowledged by the silence as I watch, but you don't hear me. Don't see me. That familiar feeling is too loud, the memories are too loud. I'm not real. You aren't either, to me. Up close, you're a seamless image.
Holographic and torn, and you dance like it too. I know every one of your moves. I know how this will end, too. Maybe it will just begin again, though.
But you can't leave. You can't hide from me anymore. Not if I’ve already found you. I'd found you three long years before you even tried it. You won't disappear.
Your eyes are glass when your waist is laced by my hands. You are cold. It's like a prophecy.
And when we sway, we become spirits. Spirits in a sanctuary.
Because you never knew who you were. That's why I'm here. To remind you. To dance with you.