Forget
Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never will...
Silently, tears dripped off Christine's porcelain face, dampening the bright, blood red carpet that she knew Erik would have liked. That was why she picked it- for a constant reminder of him, even though to herself and certainly not to Raoul she would never admit it. But now the carpet seemed a hollow statement of what he truly was inside. Not just the bloodthirsty man that everyone else knew. In fact, she desperately fought the urge to throw the horrid sentiment from the home she now shared with Raoul. If she could just stand to forget the man she once tried in vain not to love, then she could get on with her simple existence. But staring down sadly at the news in her pale, delicate hands, she knew she never would.
"Phantom of the Opera found dead in Opera Populaire's vaults! The famous Opera Ghost is gone!"
The title sent icy shivers up her spine. It had actually been a year since the distressing news was dropped into her lap, but she couldn't help looking at it every day. She knew it was her fault. Guilt plagued her daily, though the Viscount-her husband- knew nothing about it. She also knew that the was best. But her mind and body were wracked with invisible sobs and hatred of herself for realizing far, far too late that she had made the wrong decision, a grave mistake, and there was no going back.
Past the point of return...the final threshold...
As every tear fell from her mournful hazel eyes, they seemed to represent a moment that she had spent with him. Moments that could never be replaced or erased. Not bothering to wipe away her salty tears, the paper from what seemed like so long ago was stained with emotions of so many days. She wasn't sure if she wanted to, but even she did, Erik wouldn't fade from her memory.
And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind...
He'll always be there, singing songs in my head...