A/N: This kind of saddened me to write... *Sniffles* I know I should be working on my other more 'neglected' stories right now... But this idea hit me late last night... And it's been on my mind all day.. So I just had to get it out, lest I wish to explode.
Warning: Character death, yaoi, dark themes... Um. Think that's it. Don't like don't read?
Disclaimers: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters. Just this idea.
They Say I'm Sick
They say I'm sick, Artie
Because he saw me with you
Meshing our bodies into one
Skin against skin
In an awkward
Yet perfect
Rhythm.
He saw us, yeah.
Those violet eyes wide
And with those trembling lips he spoke
In sharp whispers
That cut me so deep I bled internally
Sticks and stones could not compare
To the slurs and obscenities hurled upon me
Like strikes of lightening
As we scurried to dress ourselves.
Hay and Straw
Clung to your exposed back
As you ran
From the old barn
That hid our oh so wrong affection
For one another
For so many years.
Upon my own
Primal marks of desire
Presented themselves
Shamefully.
As if giving only more proof
To what we'd done.
What I'd done.
They say I'm sick, Artie
Because I gave to you
What should only be given
To sirens.
The creatures with bloodied lips
And false smiles.
The ones you hated
To see draped around me
Like glittering ornaments
Distracting the naked eye.
Blinding, really.
But... In the end...
Did it really matter?
Unconditional love..
I wonder, where was it?
Where was it when a belt
Broke the skin
Of my back
Overshadowing
The crescent moons
Received from blunted nails.
I wonder, where was it
When my tongue
Was forced to utter
The horrid scripture
Of what should be done
To me.
They're own flesh and blood.
They say I'm sick, Artie
Because they found your photo
In the worn leather wallet
He gave me
Once upon a time.
It's the picture you despise.
The one where your hair is a hectic shock of gold
Displayed above your head
Like a crown
Or perhaps a halo.
Forest green eyes irritated
And fixed on the camera
That I held to forever keep the memory
As physical as you and I.
It was...
Our first date
At the amusement park
With those cruddy rides
That made your hair
Stand on end
In such a literal fashion.
Right?
It pained me to see it torn
Into the shreds far too similar
To my rapidly beating heart.
Was I really any different
Than the boy I was yesterday?
Yesterday
When the sun beat down
On my skin
As I worked the fields.
Though much more bearable
Than the angrily glowing
Brander
That connected with my cheek
To forever mark me
As exactly what I was
When the old man
Came home.
An animal.
The smell of burning flesh
Will always be with me.
They say I'm sick, Artie
Because I have the stink
Of our deed
Beneath my clothes.
I am forced to say by name
Those fluids
You left me with
To feel
Nothing but
Shame.
Do you know
What it's like
To be held down
In water
Claimed to be so holy
It will cleanse me
Of the need
To have you?
Heal me, they say.
Save me, they say.
Cure me, they say.
As if I choose
To love
And desire
Your fingers
Intertwined
With my own.
As if it is an illness
That is so contagious
They fear I may have simply
'Caught' it from you.
I am diseased
With my ruined skin
And screaming lungs.
'Air, air.'
I wondered briefly..
...As they held me down...
If it was you
I saw in the brightening light
As they cured me.
They say I was sick, Artie.