8.27.14
I still go out at night, when the sun has just taken its leave and the sparkles are just starting to wake from their own sleep. They make their way into the sky.
I still go out to find the pattern of them that marks my memory of that night. They bore witness. They watched and laughed and danced. The shape they still make, holding hands at a distance, somewhere up amidst the angels at the crests of our galaxy, is what we perceive as an astral play and dance of some sort.
This shined above us as we died that night. The first of many nights that my breath was taken away forever. The night I died, and you with me as I dragged you down, deep under the surface of where the stars could no longer touch.
You killed me with the swift brush of your lips. And it was final. I was final. I was ecstatic as I choked on my tears and death took me, with you and them there. I am only now coming to accept the asphyxiation that happened there and then. Everything that's happened since, in the seeming afterlife, was still in the denial and mourning stage. I am past that now.
I am dead. You are dead. Our hearts collapsed under our fingers that night as the stars in that constellation suffocated with us. They went out, and came back brighter than ever, marking their dance and temporary home in the night sky ever more strongly. They were born again.
But here, still and cold, I still remain.
No comments:
Post a Comment