A shattered mirror,
A broken chair,
And a rocking horse left unattended.
Her love, lost.
One word.
Taken.
Fireflies led the way.
Some got caught in her empty mason jar.
He took it in his hands.
Words were overkill to the mute couple.
Bleeding, her heart now swore to never love again.
All he did was stitch up the wounds,
Barely leaving a mark.
"Heal", the only word spoken.
Death and Life played with his psyche.
Only the Soul knew his endgame.
Limbo.
Greed, Lust and Gluttony.
The perfect companions and playthings to a rapist's idle mind.
Luckily, her OCD kept her safe.
So far.
Humor, he laughed.
Red smeared on the white pancake of his face. He grinned his plastered, plastic grin.
Humor, he laughed.
Tonight, the joke was on them.
The serrated edges of his knife were barely concealed in the soles of his over-sized shoes.
Many masks to an actor's face.
Her wrinkles held emotions of a hundred fleshless women. Her mind, a swimming vortex of a hundred different egos. Her face, now expressionless and devoid of character.
An actor's death, a character's birth.
Pauses. Cues. Blocking.
Her intention was clear - to be the most renowned actress in the world.
Speed. Missed moments. Forced improvisations.
Her path forward was on a shoestring budget, murky.
'Why not us?', he asked.
' "Us" won't last', she replied.
'Love will'.
'Freedom won't'.
And she ran.
The garlic sizzled in the hot oil.Chopped, fine and thin. Just the way he liked it.
Too bad it was him on the night's menu.
Fragile.
Handle with care.
Breakable.
She carefully packed away half of the bone china they bought together, wondering why there weren't warning labels for marriage.
Golden light bounced off his glasses. He stood there mute as the mangalsutra around her neck reflected her expression - loss. Her new husband beamed up at him. "I won", he gloated.
Two steps forward, one step back, dip, turn and twist.
Her palms were sweating. He didn't mind. Her moans were worth it.
As they danced.
The sun lit up the sky.
Somewhere far on the other side of the world, he awoke to blazing heat.
Her touch lingered like the sun.
Permanent orange, scarlet, yellow ochre and golden yellow medium hue 32 were just colours in tubes.
The sky knew it was her way of setting herself free. Naturally.
Whispers amongst the shadows, she knew they were waiting. Mama had told her about them.
Now, she could have sworn the whispers sounded like Mama's voice. Just beyond the fluttering curtains of her third storey bedroom.
The pen scratched paper in much the same way that the ECG graph had. You can't die of heartbreak, they had said. His heart stopped nonetheless.
A broken chair,
And a rocking horse left unattended.
Her love, lost.
One word.
Taken.
Fireflies led the way.
Some got caught in her empty mason jar.
He took it in his hands.
Words were overkill to the mute couple.
Bleeding, her heart now swore to never love again.
All he did was stitch up the wounds,
Barely leaving a mark.
"Heal", the only word spoken.
Death and Life played with his psyche.
Only the Soul knew his endgame.
Limbo.
Greed, Lust and Gluttony.
The perfect companions and playthings to a rapist's idle mind.
Luckily, her OCD kept her safe.
So far.
Humor, he laughed.
Red smeared on the white pancake of his face. He grinned his plastered, plastic grin.
Humor, he laughed.
Tonight, the joke was on them.
The serrated edges of his knife were barely concealed in the soles of his over-sized shoes.
Many masks to an actor's face.
Her wrinkles held emotions of a hundred fleshless women. Her mind, a swimming vortex of a hundred different egos. Her face, now expressionless and devoid of character.
An actor's death, a character's birth.
Pauses. Cues. Blocking.
Her intention was clear - to be the most renowned actress in the world.
Speed. Missed moments. Forced improvisations.
Her path forward was on a shoestring budget, murky.
'Why not us?', he asked.
' "Us" won't last', she replied.
'Love will'.
'Freedom won't'.
And she ran.
The garlic sizzled in the hot oil.Chopped, fine and thin. Just the way he liked it.
Too bad it was him on the night's menu.
Fragile.
Handle with care.
Breakable.
She carefully packed away half of the bone china they bought together, wondering why there weren't warning labels for marriage.
Golden light bounced off his glasses. He stood there mute as the mangalsutra around her neck reflected her expression - loss. Her new husband beamed up at him. "I won", he gloated.
Two steps forward, one step back, dip, turn and twist.
Her palms were sweating. He didn't mind. Her moans were worth it.
As they danced.
The sun lit up the sky.
Somewhere far on the other side of the world, he awoke to blazing heat.
Her touch lingered like the sun.
Permanent orange, scarlet, yellow ochre and golden yellow medium hue 32 were just colours in tubes.
The sky knew it was her way of setting herself free. Naturally.
Whispers amongst the shadows, she knew they were waiting. Mama had told her about them.
Now, she could have sworn the whispers sounded like Mama's voice. Just beyond the fluttering curtains of her third storey bedroom.
The pen scratched paper in much the same way that the ECG graph had. You can't die of heartbreak, they had said. His heart stopped nonetheless.
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