Weightless.
Even with the immense amounts of desperation, remorse that pushes down onto my aching, fragile shoulders; you've managed to keep me poise; Even if your intentions were wrought to another aspect. Your goal? To rid of me. You're not fooling anyone; no matter how much could be denied – you contracted me into this new abundance, for your own sake; never for mine. I know this, you know this; but in all honesty, I could care less. Every disregarded flutter of my eyelash is a new awakening, a distinct thought. Succumbed to such emotion is almost absurd for an adolescent to overcome – but I've managed. You've managed. To bring me into such undisclosed thoughts, ideas, moments that I'm hoping for. Moments I aspired for you to dream of. Chances aren't too high, though; but I'm completely okay with the very fact that I'm just your puppet you toy along your ivory web, until time has reduced to nothing and I'm ceased evermore into ignorance. But for now, I only have you.
It's almost absurd to look back at what we've been through; I almost thought it was real - The way you looked at me, the way I thought you were looking at me. But you only softened your true intentions towards me until I believed every last word; until I was now a simple butterfly caught in the cobweb you wove, this game you've created. I'm your stepping stone to the Phantomhive kid, we both know it; I just try not to face such truth. From the beginning of the end, I knew it. Knew I wasn't what you wanted; even I know for a fact that I'm just a tainted and impure child. But I anticipated with every fiber of my pitiable being, that you would accept such certainty. The praise brought upon me by the beloved deceased - "If it's you, you'll make it come true! That's right! Big brother is so great, he can make a great wish come true!" - might as well have been his last breaths wasted. If my wishes had been so undoubtedly conceived, my life, my "menial soul", wouldn't be so fixated on one other – Ciel Phantomhive. I grind my teeth at the name; that child's soul, so much more suitable for his tastes; to any demon's taste. I was so unworthy of his expectations, so degrading of such a creature. Why did a simple Faustian contract lure me straight into the grasp of Aphrodite's chokehold? I fell too easily, and I can never bring myself to get back up.
Houhe o Taraluna; Ron de Rotarel.
Stay beside me, you're all I'll ever have; just continue to look at me, only me. It's all I'll ever ask of you; the only thing I will ever ask of you that holds true significance. I won't order, I will beg on hand and knee, you are my highness, the only one left. Listen to me, please.
You will never listen, and I knew that from the start. You sick, vile creatures toy with our very being, happily assisting us in the process of stripping ourselves of our dignity and existence – you appear soft on the outside, but the inside is beyond what words can accomplish. I always wondered what you thought of me; but the message has been clearly written. And yet, I still desired. I thought you the same, loved you the same – hoped every aching night that you were different; awakening to the sound of your calm, collected voice giving forth the name you gave me, "Danna-sama." As I would lie in the dawned silence listening to your sound, your voice as it beat against the drums of my ears rhythmically, my heart following suit. At times I would almost reach out for you, to take you in and make you mine, to make me yours.
During the waning days of my life, I dreamt; dreamt of you, dreamt of us. Dreamt of what it could have been before my final chapter. Days became brighter then; you would cook, clean, and fold my clothes. The silence would be golden until conversation would make way, I'd tell you everything and you would listen with understanding affection. We'd go about our ways until day became dusk, and we would dance together under a twilit sky, my hand twined in yours – those golden eyes meeting my cerulean blues in silence, our breathing almost something audible, but our hearts overcoming the sound. When satisfied, I would rest, urging you to sleep alongside me; you would hold me close, my frail figure pressed protectively against yours, and you'd whisper to me, comfort me, until my half-lidded eyes would close to a new awakening. Reality.
This morning you were gone, and this morning I was deteriorating; my selfless needs had brought me to my own personal downfall. That stupid kid, ruining me, hurting me - even when I brought fair warnings down upon him, about his demon and about my own. He had selfishly started the fight for his "dignity", for his own needs. For reasons that hadn't been factual, only told by his "ever-so-trustworthy" butler. Never did that dim-witted jackass think twice about what he was doing; and when all had been over, you just stood. Staring. So entranced by the new taste you had discovered from a single blood-stained slap – and right then I knew, it was gone. We were gone. That is, if we had ever been there.