(memoria)

string of consciousness. ( poetic )

nothing is owned, therefore no one gets sued.

o-ix.

o.

Your pain broke my heart, finally. Did you know that? The knives shot out of your chest, out of your heart. Flowers sprouted by the rain that was your grief.

I reached for you, the wing-blades of your back, and you turned farther from me, saying:

"I'm sorry, Kazuma. I love you. But I just can't, anymore. Maybe I loved you too much."

And then you left.

i.

Between the wasteland and the sea, I saw you, burning, everywhere. Shattered.

I can't believe I cracked in half, then.

I can't believe you were such a dangerous angel.

ii.

I stumbled over the dunes, the scorched earth, chasing fragments of you from the wasteland to the sea, and felt a little of your sadness- and your absence- everywhere. I was afraid the chasms in the earth had opened up and swallowed you.

I was afraid I wasn't strong enough-- my love not true enough to carry me. I walked so far from myself, searching. The flowers shot up from the ground but I never saw them.

You were the rain that never came. You were the spring that never brought green to my life again. You were the momentary blue in everything.

And you were the one thing that ran away from me, and never stopped running.

I wondered if you ever looked back. Even once, to see me dragging on, so far behind you; but still, behind you. You came in stars that burned too close above my head and scorched my eyelids.

You came in a woman's voice saying, red-lipped and loveless, "Faire l'amour, c'est faire le mal," as she performed in a seedy bar somewhere in the middle of the night.

To make love is to make evil.

iii.

A French woman with Japanese eyes sent Kanami roses. She called herself Keika, Ryu. She said that she was sorry. I think you know who she was sorry for.

Kanami thought her voice would be a silver flute, infused with momentary rain that split the sky and played a never-ending song of sadness in her heart.

The roses withered and died.

iv.

I was desolate and hungry. I could feel everything crumbling inside of me. Bleached, burned, broken. But I pressed on, growing heavier by the struggle of the fight; the way you vanished from me, just beyond my eyes, out of my reach, with every stumbling purchase forward. You were my heart, beating. Rising me again dead to my feet, again.

"A drought that sucks the life away. Dry and barren; desolate and empty heart," I said, to no one. But I could hear you speaking to me. The ghost of your voice; like the touch of your hand.

"And You-- You are a wild fire," you seemed to counter back, somehow. Omniscient, from inside me or the sky.

"Spreading quickly and burning everything. You destroyed everything."

You clutched your heart, hard. Like it hurt.

"You've left me only ashes."

v.

I chased your words into the sea where I drowned.

You were hiding there, in the deepest, secret place, at the edge of the world. Where everything meets and everything comes together.

"I found you," I said, drinking in the length of your hair. Your new clothes.

You answered, "So you did."

You turned, setting your bag down on the street, then turned back toward me.

"Have you found what you were looking for yet?"

I thought that was a strange question. And I reached out with every hurt, wanting to touch you.

vi.

"Come back with me," I told you. "We can start over."

Can't we?

"Let's do it again, from the beginning. OK?"

You smiled. Sadly, smiled.

"Just let it go," you said, almost softly.

I would not and I couldn't.

vii.
"I don't want to forget."

viii.

I held you harder and you turned away. I held tighter to your sleeve. I wanted to pull you back to me. We could collide, we could crumble. I wanted you to pull back into me.

"Let go," you said. "Please, Kazuma. Let go."

You drowned me when you let me go.

"Forget," you begged me. "Please. I lied to you. About all of it."

I lied about everything I heard your blood whisper to me, thrashing against the confines of your skin. And, holding on to you, I promised the word:

"Never."

And you collapsed under the weight of that grief, knowing that when I said that I would search all of the stars for you, I would, and that when I promised I would never, never let you go

That I will never let you go.

ix.

And I will never forget.

end

word inspiration: between the wasteland and the sea: between the wasteland and the sky; trigun. title-homage.

word inspiration: dangerous angel: dangerous angels, francesa lia block. book-homage.

faire l'amour c'est faire le mal: to make love is to make evil. (french.) translation. see charles baudelaire.