Refrain de l'âme
By Rykea Night
The rain is cynical in a way—a mockery to the human spirit, the human heart.
Smoky haze casts a morbid veil over the purest of skies, draining every ounce of life and hope from a tainted white. Then, within the beauty of the downfall, ebony coats her miserable mask, and cooling tears pour from the heavens. The angels weep for us, pity us, and within their holy embrace a new luminosity is born.
The storm is over.
But only for another day.
The rain comes and goes, leaving us with inspiration and a sense of beauty. Though the gray clouds easily follow, pulling us into their depressing hold, whispering dismay into our fragile minds. But are they not one in the same? The ugliness, the beauty? The rain.
Perhaps that's why I love you. You are my ugliness, my beauty. You reflect everything I feel in your amber eyes: my admiration, my ambition, my anguish. You hold each emotion tightly within, never whispering a secret to the derogatory world.
You are simply my rain.
I rest my head in my arms, sighing into the impenetrable mist that coils around my features, dampening my soul. There is a frost to the air, a lingering of winter's breath against spring's vibrant spirit. My smile has faded with her passing. He is gone after all. Never to be seen again. Never to dance before my vision in a gracious blur. Never to peer deeply into my sinful core.
A sickness grows in the pit of my stomach, eating at my insides. It hurts. It tears me apart. Loneliness.
The green of the court is gray within the morbid fog. The nets drip droplets of black onto a shimmering mirror of hate. The benches rest vacant. The streets echo the emptiness of my heart.
I feel my eyes burn as the world begins to fade. Hot beads of water slither down my cheeks as I fall limply to the ground. Everything swirls into a mirage of drying color and ash as I hear your forgotten voice.
Perhaps this is simply a dream.
Heat pours from your bare skin into mine as you press against me, your arms enveloping my trembling body. I pant, breath dissipating from within as you push me down against the cool linen of the sheets, your mouth traveling from my shoulder to the pulse in my neck, thousands of precious kisses tattooed deeply into my flesh.
I whisper your name softly between my gasps, and you find my lips, teasing them in gentle bites. Your tongue is hot and wet against the inside of my mouth, arousing a desire deep within the forbidden part of my soul.
I dig my nails into your back, pulling you harder against me, feeling each curve of your body perfectly aligned with mine. You gently move my legs, and I gasp as you push against the inside of my corpse, taking away all sense of reason. In that blissful pain, I cry, my fever rising.
Your hands find mine, your fingers entwining with my hold, pressing them against the sheets. And within that final thrust, you look into my soul with your beautiful eyes, revealing all my sins and desires, trusts and aspirations.
You bury your face in the groove of my neck, your sweet breath warming my skin as sticky beads of sweat run down my cheek and your firm chest. You do not say a word, and neither do I as the rain finally stops, faint droplets of crystal descending before the open window.
A sent of lilac rushes over my senses as I shift, the sun finally rising this beautiful morning. My eyes flutter open to the loneliness of the room, but I feel a peaceful smile tug at the corner of my mouth. My clothes lay strewn across the floor where you threw them, the sheets rustled and clammy with perspiration.
As I gaze out the window into the clearing day, I feel your lingering aura dance through the air, and the hurt within dissipates.
The rain comes and goes, but within my misery you'll come again.
Perhaps that is why I love you.
Perhaps this is simply our deranged story of forbidden love.
