Midnight musing from me after I witnessed something quite sad and I thought
I should write about it. I probably haven't done it well and it's not very
long. Just an experiment.
*~*
In one of the hidden corridors of the Moulin Rouge, hanging solitary on the left side wall, there is a photograph. It is framed in a cheap black and gold wooden frame that is cracked and splintered around the edges. It is the last remaining photograph of Satine, the Sparkling Diamond.
At a certain hour of each night the sound of steady and heavy footsteps echoes through the Diamond's corridor, followed by the dim little circle of gold light from a candle. It is the Penniless Poet, come to visit once again.
He never says a word, only stands before the photograph holding the candle high so the light reaches every corner of the frame. He gazes into her eyes, that even trapped inside the photograph, are still as endless and beautiful as they were when she was alive. It used to always make him cry, looking into her eyes, but now he's beyond tears.
He stands before that photograph until the wax from his candle spills down onto his hand he holds it with. The feel of the burning doesn't make him flinch or take notice. He waits until the candle flame burns away the rest of the wick and becomes dimmer and dimmer, until it's just a flicker of orange before surrendering to darkness. Then his tears will come back.
He doesn't like to cry in front of her anymore. Instead he will cry undercover of darkness as he places a shaking hand upon the photograph near her cheek. He feels the scratchiness of the photo and splintered wood frame and struggles to fight past that to find any warmth of her left. But never finds it.
He would leave soon after that, invisible and cloaked in darkness he would walk back down the Diamond's corridor without saying goodbye, because it wasn't goodbye for he and she.
It's only the time in-between life and death.
*~*
In one of the hidden corridors of the Moulin Rouge, hanging solitary on the left side wall, there is a photograph. It is framed in a cheap black and gold wooden frame that is cracked and splintered around the edges. It is the last remaining photograph of Satine, the Sparkling Diamond.
At a certain hour of each night the sound of steady and heavy footsteps echoes through the Diamond's corridor, followed by the dim little circle of gold light from a candle. It is the Penniless Poet, come to visit once again.
He never says a word, only stands before the photograph holding the candle high so the light reaches every corner of the frame. He gazes into her eyes, that even trapped inside the photograph, are still as endless and beautiful as they were when she was alive. It used to always make him cry, looking into her eyes, but now he's beyond tears.
He stands before that photograph until the wax from his candle spills down onto his hand he holds it with. The feel of the burning doesn't make him flinch or take notice. He waits until the candle flame burns away the rest of the wick and becomes dimmer and dimmer, until it's just a flicker of orange before surrendering to darkness. Then his tears will come back.
He doesn't like to cry in front of her anymore. Instead he will cry undercover of darkness as he places a shaking hand upon the photograph near her cheek. He feels the scratchiness of the photo and splintered wood frame and struggles to fight past that to find any warmth of her left. But never finds it.
He would leave soon after that, invisible and cloaked in darkness he would walk back down the Diamond's corridor without saying goodbye, because it wasn't goodbye for he and she.
It's only the time in-between life and death.