You asked me why I try
to ruin everything.
When I did not understand
your question, you snared me by the arm to present me before the unrecognizable
interiors of your ribcage, sprawled among a wilting bed of arnicas. I remember
distinctly the arnicas, with their bloodstained yellow crowns, because you showed
them to me once when you managed to induce the both of us with poison. Your
heart remained beating on the silent earth.
You asked me the
question again, and this time we both looked up. We were standing beneath an
abysmal void of blue that seemed hollow without the presence of a cloud. The
Sun was at its threshold above us, presently waiting on its celestial throne to
shine bleak light upon its absent subjects. It all seemed awfully picturesque in
our eyes. This you pointed out to me in enraged bursts of spits.
For I knew how much you loved overcast weathers.
I knew how much you loved thunderstorms; how it pleases you to watch the skies grace
the earth with relentless whips of lightning, scarring your world, berating it
with clamors of thunder that always seem to resemble a cacophonous orchestra of kettledrums. I
knew how, when the clouds begin to roll, you would push me aside like a piece
of furniture and escape from our embrace, only to run outside and thank the
rain for offering you solace in light of all your sufferings. I had known all of
this, for I have engraved your entire intricacy in the veins that intertwined
across the backs of my palms.
So why have I come to
spoil everything for you? If I had loved you, why did I ask the storm to cease,
and for the Sun to exhaust its futile rays on the two of us?
And you were the cave
that sheltered us both from the very same storm you loved. When the seas grew
tumultuous, you were the tormented waves that swept inside of our safe, drowning
us in the engulfing darkness with your malevolent tides.
We were both left
afterwards in an unsightly wreck. You told me that I had done enough – it was
time for you to leave. Exhaustion and the pathetic remains of my love for you kept me rooted in
my position. I have learnt better than to interfere.
You left, saying you needed a place of your own to grow. You were tired of these long summers.