WHAT WE USED TO BE
Sorry, this isn't like my normal stuff. Usually all my drabbles are even happy! But...you know...not everything is happy all the time...
I guess I'm in a mood.
"You think,
To look at all the angles.
As the quiet workings of a broken man.
The time is burning like a candle,
And it makes you think of how it all began.
Well step inside your skin,
And walk around.
And from the other side,
I see it now..."
She had wanted to be his cure.
Somehow, over the years, she had convinced herself that she was all he needed to be happy.
He had wanted her to be his cure.
Over the years, he had convinced himself that her love, her soul and her body would make him happy.
He had been dying of thirst, and she'd led him to water.
At least, for a while.
Finally, after living for years in a rather tenuous relationship, he left her again.
She had wanted to be his cure.
But, in the end, there was no substitute for the real thing.
As he wandered, he heard whisperings that the princess of Seyruun refused to marry.
He heard whisperings that the princess of Seyruun had lost her shine.
He hung his head and covered his face, but he did not return to her.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?" His former friend had told him. As she spun on her heel, her red hair flashing out behind her like a flame, he had simply nodded.
He had never seen her again.
The years passed, and he forgot what it was to be happy.
Many winters had passed before he finally returned to Seyruun.
The princess had, indeed, never married.
She had, indeed, lost her shine.
As he let himself into her room, he found her waiting for him.
"I knew you'd come," she said. "Eventually."
He said nothing. She let him into her bed.
As he let himself out of the princess' room, he knew he should apologize. He knew he owed her something. But he found he could not find the words.
"Zelgadis," he heard her say to his back. "How long will you continue to search for your cure? How long will I be forced to wait?"
Her question hung in the air, strangling him.
"There is no cure," he finally answered.
And then he was gone.
The coffin was white. The color suited the person within, of course, but it stood out in stark contrast to the darkness of the sky. A storm was coming, and he couldn't help but think it reflected his mood nicely.
As the other mourners began drifting out of the graveyard, he dared to creep out of his hiding place and approach the coffin.
Taking one last long look, he threw a single red rose on top of the gleaming casket and walked away just as the rain began to fall.
She had wanted nothing more than to be his cure.
It was a shame he couldn't have been hers.
END.
"It is easy to have fallen into a world,
That is smaller than every time, every time.
I will leave it to exist somehow,
Like a restless man who's learned to die.
Soul in rhyme, a soul in rhyme..."