Lost Like You
Callisto
talks to herself and finds the conversation lacking.
I
wouldn't do that. I wouldn't make that move. I wouldn't want to be
lost like you.
She'd
reply... if it really mattered. When talking to those sides of
yourself, it is best to hold your tongue.
There
is before Cirra. And even then, Callisto didn't believe in much.
Oh,
she had love. But little else.
And
there is after Cirra. That's when the wild and reckless passion was
released.
That
is when Callisto let herself be truly free.
What
is freedom? Are you free now? Or are you just bound to love that
which you hate? To always be a step behind?
Callisto
doesn't answer. It doesn't matter. Things like love don't matter to a
girl like herself.
Unless
it is the kind of love she can tear apart and eat up, set it on fire
and beat it down.
A
love like that just might mend her broken bird-like heart.
Then
again, maybe not.
Yes...
maybe not...
Callisto
waits for conformation and hears nothing.
So,
she keeps moving and asking for death and hoping for oblivion and
wishing for the dark hands that mangled her past to come back.
She
aches for Xena to finish the job, to finally give Callisto what she
has forever wanted.
What
do you want?
Nothing
and everything.
You
want too much.
I
know.
END