Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh.
Warnings/Notes: Angst. Please note the extreme importance of punctuation in this story. Commas indicate a short pause, places with a lack of punctuation were left as such for emphatic purposes.
At the beginning of this piece, there are exactly 6 hours, 24 minutes until I may mark that three years have gone by. I stab the brush down into a messy blend of blue, and wipe excess color off clinging, forlorn fibers. Listless eyes stare off into a crease on the wall behind me, some awkward angle to the left of my gaze. I etch to life my fantasy against a background the color of incompetence.
In time I delve into a deep, sultry crimson and breathe you to life amidst a heavy accent of lead and alcohol. Before our elopement, your father would have me paint you in dresses and bows, sitting in some far-off field atop a hill. You wore blue to match your eyes, but then, I'm sure you remember that much.
I ink the red delicately across your bust line, and set in at a diligent pace.
There was a time, shortly after the whirlwind talk of engagement, that your father happened upon me as I was sketching you in red. He scolded me for the intimate portrayal of his daughter, and demanded that I depict you in something suitable to your charm. I was young then and lacked the nerve to laugh at him, for he had not seen the sides of you that I had.
To humor him, your wedding dress was a glowing white devoid the radiance of your smile. That night; however, I undressed a bride whose lips were painted a glorious shade of scarlet, and made you mine in tremors of sangria victory.
From then on, your passion for life was incandescent. I indulged your every desire on equally silly whims to please you. In your arms, I was the happiest person alive, clinging to dreams of the vivacious being I knew was not to last. And when your time was fast approaching and your father brought you roses powdered blue, you did not have the lioness heart left to tell him your many truths. They died a frenzy upon your lips, and stained them the shade of our favorite love story.
Looking back, there were many things you longed for that I could not give you, but to stop and think for a moment, I imagine that you were happy…right up to the end. In the last of our short months together, I abandoned my yellow shirts for a suit of red, which you smiled upon…day after day after day. Somewhere within you, lost beneath tranquil blues of acceptance, was the passion to live: I lined your casket with red velvet, in the hopes to pry it from you.
Your dress flows out, a gorgeous, forbidden shade against the color of incompetence.
3…
Women in senseless uniform,
2…
adorned with vessels of unhealing medicine
1…
amidst the shuffling white of rooms.
Anniversaire heureux, mon amour.