I’ve always believed that, counting as sheep jump over a rickety wooden fence—
lining up again and again to see a never ending loop of movement for the
enjoyment
of the owner of the thin bed sheets that melt into pure silver the moment
it touches the thick stems of the poison ivy that peeks into narrow slivers of wood.
the ivy encrusting the sweet sweet motion of your eyelashes, fluttering helplessly,
just like the little butterfly in your garden that I saw last week, trapped in a
dulcet of a dream. the gold spots on its wings reminded me of the golden
honey that you would offer
during tea time every wednesday, as a gesture of care. as if the honey made the
bitter
tea any sweeter—it didn’t. but I still remember the antique china that you
offered
every time I visited. I shattered one on the floor, the tiny pieces
of glass escaping me every single time I tried to pick it up between my
fingers.
panic swept through me as I rushed to clean what was already broken. maybe then I
should’ve
known that you were already broken—broken inside. as your heart turned
into ashes,
unable to invite me to the humble tea time dining that we enjoyed, oh,
ostensibly help me into your life. let me see how much I have destroyed you. how much
I tried to change our lives. how many times I have failed. how many memories I have wasted in
vain, wishing that we could change. carrying the hopes that I will have succeeded
one day. that day came during the thirty-seventh tea time we had together.
when
I finally succeeded in breaking you. the sweet sound of victory tingling my ears as the
china shattered on the floor for the thirty-seventh time that week. your obsession, your
addiction—
it reached the best of us. it truly broke us. now as I stand before you, on the
bed
snoring softly, as if you were still alive, I wonder why—wonder why
you’re still breathing. haven’t I tried my absolute best already? haven’t I invested
countless
hours just listening—listening to you fret about me? fret about my power?
haven’t
you said it yourself? that the dulcet of myself was too loud to ignore?
oh
then, I simply listened. knowing that you were right that I was bound to strike sooner or later—
how chilling it is to hear the serenity of yourself. so how can you still
be
snoring when you sleep. if you’re snoring, I have no choice but to
believe that you’re still alive. that you’re still counting the endless line of sheep
that I,
haven’t gotten to you at all in the quiet seconds of dawn.
where did your love for me go? I remember when you wanted
me to
run to you. you wanted me to come as quickly as I could, helping you get on that
roller coaster
you were too short at first. didn’t I help you? You got taller.
How dare you betray me
like that—now that I’m coming to
you,
you try to resist. you try to swat me away, claiming that you have people you love in
your
past. but tell me, didn’t I give everything to you when you wanted
me there? it should be
time for my turn. we made a deal the moment you came into
this world.
and now you’re still breathing. ignoring my urges to leave with me. to come
with me. I
should’ve known that you would want to stay. that’s what they all say at
the end. I
guess I’ll just get ready for my next tea party with you dear, for you can never
escape the sweet sweet sound of time flying right next to you—making you wonder if
you’re
the one left behind,
the one too far ahead,
or the one onboard.