Inspired by the music video for Taylor Swift's song, Safe and Sound. I hope you enjoy it. ~ Em
The rocking chair lies on the floor. Broken. Burned. You used to sit in that rocking chair, do you remember? You used to sit there, rocking, singing me a lullaby until I fell to sleep.
I wish that you were still in that rocking chair, still singing me to sleep. I wish that it didn't have to be burned, broken on the floor. The fire is gone now, just like you. What wouldn't I give to feel the heat of the flames once more, if only it meant that you were here?
We chose the wrong sides, didn't we? You starting the fires, me putting them out. Me stopping that which you had begun. It wasn't just flames that began, though, was it? No, for you and me there was something else, something more. Something that meant I felt a layer of guilt each time we put a stop to your schemes. Something which they used, something which even I manipulated. The words you whispered to me in the darkness saved so much – lives, knowledge... but not time. We never did have enough time. Some call you a traitor for what you did. I don't want to believe that. I want to believe that you did it because it was right; noble, good. And I want to believe that you did it because you loved me. What you told me would have got you killed, if ever they had found out about it. But still you told me, even though you had picked their side over mine. Am I right?
I wish that you were here to tell me. Here is where we'll meet, you said once, once all this is over. All of this is not yet over, but I think perhaps for me all this is nearing its end. So here I am.
Here I am.
Even if I close my eyes, I can't quite see back to how it was before. The scent of wood smoke is still too strong. Who was it who burned this chair? Was it you, the flames dancing under your loving touch? Is it a message, telling me to give up? Because I won't, you know. Until I hear the words come from your mouth, until I see the truth in your eyes, I won't give up hope.
Ash crumbles off as I run my fingers over your rocking chair. You always did like to play with matches. Are you the villain that they tell me you are? Was all that we shared just a game for you?
If you were here, you could tell me. If you were here, the words of the lullaby would be more than just a memory. Where are you?
If you were here, the rocking chair would be the only thing lying broken and burned on the floor.