and then I gathered myself to walk out into their world with clean hands, but all of that muddy conscience and with a smile blinding their empty eyes, always there, staring.
(what did you do?)
my skin tightly wound around my neck, that pressure continued to pound in my throat but i had to find out what it was that she saw.
all light absorbed
in the shadows i will hide
til the contour of my silhouette
fades to undefined
i still have fire
Maximum satisfaction is obtained when, beverage in hand, one views the fading silhouette of a mountain one has spent all day walking up and snowboarding down. Black Peak in the Harris mountains, New Zealand.
afraid to leave you because I’m enamored by your beauty and
terrified to get too close just to find that what I once thought was
beautiful was just garbage with a pretty pattern. Your path is the
road less traveled on, but the vines and prickles should have been a
sign. I speak not of your name because every time it is pushed out of
the mouth and onto the lips you slip further away from me. When my
hand reaches out to grasp your fading silhouette all I pull back is
moonlight and the last words you whispered to me: “It can never be
I promised to fix you, to help you, to save you. I promised to pull you back up to the surface of these violent waters. But somewhere, somewhere among the churning waves, I drowned. And as blue faded to black, I prayed not for my life; I prayed that I succeeded in making you float.
Tell me you’re floating. Please, look down deep into the water below. Squint, search for my fading silhouette. And tell me that I fixed you, helped you, saved you.
How long she had been running, Garnet was unsure. H o w she was still running was a hell of a question as well, but neither of which appeared in her mind as her being trembled with every sob that choked through her lips, trying to put something, anything between herself and the men who had a t t a c k e d her. The door to the apartment building was slammed shut, her uncontrollable cries echoing as the young woman tried to carry her body that screamed in pain up the steps and bang on the door of the only person who she could find safety with.
Garnet was a relatively easy person: she didn’t speak much, bit her tongue, always was optimistic and giving others the benefit of the doubt. Yet this ability grew harder and harder, given the screeching of a baby that had kept her up for nights now, making her head pound relentlessly. Frustration weighing on her shoulders, the young woman finally stalked out of her apartment in the wee hours of the morning to see what kind of parent would just let their poor child scream all night.