A winter morning.
A tale of one as sad as rain. Of once a love that held his hand. And once a twist of fate. The cruel touch of day.
…
A silent curve of sunlight on the streets around. The glitter of the snow lights the day. My hands feel numb. My feet they trudge along. My breath it shows of white. And I pass by. Gone to home once more. Once again alone inside.
The pendant around my neck feels heavy to me. However. It might just be me. I'm cold and alone. This winter morning depression. I feel like laying down. And sleep a million years.
Maybe it's just the ever reaching hands of winter. That hold me in their grip of ice. Where warmth no more resided. And pain deepened cuts within my soul. I'm alone. I'm, cold.
The streets seem so silent to me now. Like ever sound has died away. Silent courtyards draws me into their paths of fairytale. Of flowers long ago withered. Of tears long ago shed. And here I sit. The bench beneath me cold and wet. The hands I feel attached to my arms. They feel numb to me. And I wonder silently. Why am I even here?
I glance about. No mere idea of interest. No longer views of need. Along this path I trudge. I lost my will to be. And though I question every winter. Of the need for this seclusion. This depression. This delusion. I know best then every other heart that beats. Around my heart. I know best of this tearful tale. Of stories long gone. Of dreams I awoke from way to soon.
It was on this bench. This very bench. On it's ground of wooden posts. That I once sat so lovingly with a man who held my hand. He seemed uneasy and unsure. And I was nervous yet in love. Oh fool I be for ever thinking. That would be enough.
He held my hand and I held his. Our features far alike. My heart still skips a beat. Whenever mirror eye I meet.
I loved a man and man loved me. We loved and lived a century. He held my hand and I remember. Kissing him here once. He gave me swift kisses and a hug. So swiftly filling me with warmth.
No longer cold from endless frost. From white sheets around the lands. Of pearly white my breath it shone. He held me long. I wasn't alone.
Yet this fairytale of love. Our story. Or so it seemed. This tale we told. A new chapter it did birth. One neither one had yet foreseen.
It was a winters night. A follower of mornings touch upon our skin. We walked along the streets. Alone together. Holding hands. Sharing warmth.
It was then that fate did judge. The ever remaining silence that was his. In a second. Another heartbeat. One that flitted by so fast. A car it swirled. Within our view it turned. He pushed me aside. My head on pavement bust. A scream. A crash. An ever lasting silence passed. And I fell down. Body cold and numb my mind to vague to hold on.
The time I did awake my heart it ached. And I knew before the words had been spoken, that my heart was cold. My love was dead. And love had faded. The body laying before me. No more breath it needed, no more blood it flowed. But I was dead and all who knew. My soul that died. My body numb from cold. I knew better then any other. That my own was broken so. Only nobody could see the broken skin.
My mind was plagued. For nights so long. After dreams of love and pleas. Of begs for one more day. Yet none of these. Only one of such. Nightmares they did follow. As time had passed. My skin it had just healed, my heart forever broken.
And I glance about my surroundings of this morning. No traditional deep grey clouds. As would be fitting so. My feeling far from depression. As all I feel is cold inside. He left me alone this winter night. The winter morning I awoke. A rose on my pillow lay. A little note I never remember writing down. A tale I never remember telling.
"I love you so. From now until the evenings end. My hand in yours I hold. Our lips that met that faithful night. I lost the chance. One for memory sake I've kept. A promise I did leave. Upon the lips of such a beauty as is yourself. I'll love you till the winters end."
And I sigh and lay a rose. Upon the bench I chose. That one winters morning. When I still held him near. That man I have now lost. The man I can still feel to stand. Near where I stand. His eyes on me. He watches. Tells me it's alright. That he is here. As he had done before. Our connection it still stands. Through bonds of life and death. Even when our hands no longer touch. I love him all the more.
And next winter I will leave another rose for him. So that he knows. I remember the soul I love the most, which was a part of mine own. My love. My other self. My yami.
Fin
r/r please?