Disclaimer: don't own anything but the mingling words.
The Lullaby
His fingers trail along every death
Alone like the moon, he whispers beyond vitality
Memories pry every single lid, look inside, and engulf it all
The song holds his heart
The words break the tears
The memories drown themselves in endless floods
The baby coos, but summer is never near
The water floats above me. Swirls of blue charcoal and tinted rain create their own language as they flow carelessly together. My world swirls along with the water. Their hearts all being ripped apart as the stitches finally split and everything comes, falling apart. Their eyes will close and I will dream their dreams. For every single person, I will be the unknown lover, the beautiful butterfly, the forsaken martyr.
My lungs catch their death with every breath that I breathe. Slowly, his words replay over in my head, a memory, a memory. And even 10-feet deep, underneath the oppression of the lake, I can see his face, rising over mine. Weathered lips and soaked cheeks, peppered breath and lonely skin, and then his eyes would rise from their slits and I would know what betrayal felt like.
I look up. I see the water bleeding her death. Over my skin, new torments begin to spawn. I know no longer how to breathe; neither care to think, but all I can see, hear, and believe is his empty face staring back at me. Whatever hope could conjure up for me, she left me standing on the edge with a final word of advice, "Die." And then his shadow never did disappear as it was supposed to, and his lips didn't taste less like melody, and his hair wasn't loosing it's delicate velvet touch, neither did his bones welt like they were meant to vanish. He never changed. He didn't even blink.
And the day he died, I had found my other-half, with him underneath life, I was able to live.
And now I find myself holding my breath that I wasn't supposed to have inhaled, and I try to stop myself from thinking of the future, and I break every instinct inside of me because I want to hold on a bit longer to his body.
The water calls me back, but I don't answer. It's trying to tell me that I don't belong here, but I never did listen to all the right things. I see his face now. All sick and pale, as it had always been, next to the empty void that now lies between us. Because he isn't breathing like he's supposed to and because he didn't care enough to bring me with him, he doesn't know, he never will know how much I loved him.
Even when the water kills me, the lake will always keep the secrets of it's dead untold, just like the corpse holds it's own heart, 'till death do us part.
Silver hair and silver rings are the only things found at the river's bottom floor.