18 mourir

she inhabited the deepest hell on her own now, as the deploration of her eyes sipped our memories away. it had been the best yet the worst stage of her mental appetite— to watch herself crave and dance on fervent melodies that were inches away from us.

i, myself, was gladly despised. she slipped the blade in forcefully, the passion behind the profound need of torturing herself went on. i bleeded words, reasons to stay, apologies that weren't mine to confess, i pleaded. i loved yet suffered, thinking i was painfully crafted, unfit for her perception... perhaps i wasn't able to break through the regrets of her past, as i only talked to them through the incisions she gave me. i pleaded continuously, trying to fix situations on my own, often confessing my pain to other people, as the blade kept on making its way slowly into my organs: i beautifully confessed the pain to the ones who were willing to portray it through the fragments of their skins.

   i once pictured myself with the girl i loved, but this girl didn't exist. phantom-skinned, hard grip, tired sight— the trilogy kept playing in my head for as long as i could remember. i silently awaited the death i deserved as the mask she wore and the lies that shamelessly rolled off her tongue fell on my naked shoulders.

         i died under my subsconciousness.

   she was no longer breathing in my ear through the telephone wires. what i had pictured as a terror of my soul turned to be a relief, yet freedom felt as empty as the glass sitting in front of me— imprints of those moments became my mouth and eyes, bleeding into one another. that's how the days silently passed by: they passed, passed and passed. they just kept on passing by, forgetting me on the edge of deploration.

   all i knew was that somewhere between the lines i have created the static interference made its way into my brain, leaving a honey-eyed sight, something that was once so familiar to me. that's when i remembered— i remembered how different your movements were, as they vividly connected with mine. i remembered you: someone who was once so dear to me.

   i tried to let myself know that i wasn't going to drown in this encounter. i couldn't afford it. i couldn't afford anything that was close to my desire of both forgetting and remembering different fires of my existence. i felt restrained, but so enamoured by the fact that you returned, as i was fighting against my will for so long.

but there we were— wrapped, covered and embedded in each other's arms again, with so many years spent on the edge of disappearance. you were continuously melting on the edges of my saccharine tone as we laid awake one on top of another, tremendously unshackled by the objects surrounding us.

   our past senselessly remained through all eternity, swaying a torment i could barely remember.

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