Postcards From No Man's Land
Jagged Branches
They went to Gerard’s grave. It was Frank’s idea.
He saw Gerard’s headstone, and he knew what was wrong. He was never meant to be under the cold dirt and the rocks. Beneath the grass that was thick with dew, fragile jeweled diamonds clinging to the ends of the stems. Gerard did not belong to the earth. He should have been engulfed in flames and scattered in places he loved.
Frank knew that his own ashes would have been at home in Mikey’s closet. He wondered if they belonged in the same wooden box as Gerard’s should have been.
Violent violet paper petals wilted, hanging their faces towards the earth. He shouldn’t be down there, they whispered, and Frank couldn’t help but listen for Gerard’s ragged cries. They were silenced, however, and where had he gone? Down beneath the deep brown earth where Mikey could not follow.
He looked up to see that Mikey was lost. In trance, in dance. His eyes were open, but his gaze was blank and distorted. He saw nothing, he knew nothing. He stood before the grave plot and was lost in nothingness.
Frank watched Mikey, and Mikey watched dead air. Dead air dead breaths, dead stare frozen death. It was so quiet, and nothing moved. The ground surrounding their feet was painted with fallen leaves, the sky pierced by the naked branches of Winter. They were vulnerable, exposed. They jutted upwards in a jagged-scar pattern, ripping the blue-silk fabric. There was nothing to hear but the beating of their hearts, but Frank could only hear his own crash-pounding against his chest. He suddenly feared that Mikey’s had stopped beating entirely, and he pulled the frail boy towards his own shivering body. Palm over heart, make me believe you’re still alive and living.
Mikey’s heart gave a few fragile beats beneath the heat of Frank’s hand, and then shattered into jagged-branch fragments at the bottom of his stomach. It seemed that he was shrinking, the light behind his eyes dwindling until it simmered out completely.
I held on too tight, didn’t I? Mikey whispered, and his voice was made of broken glass. I’m holding on to him too tight.
Frank knew that he was holding on too tight, but Mikey needed this. He needed someone to force him to breathe in the frosty Winter air. He needed someone to hold his fragmented limbs together, collect his shattered heart in the palm of their hand. He needed to know that someone still had a visible and invisible excuse to love him, even though he had already disappeared.
Please, Mikey begged with raw sobs stuck in his chest, Love me.
I love you so fucking much, Gerard whispered from the frozen earth.
No one could hear his voice. It was carried away by the arctic breeze.
Love me, Mikey pleaded.
Frank did. He loved Mikey more than the moon could ever love the ocean. Not more than Mikey loved Gerard, but more than Frank himself could even handle. The love was ripping him apart and spreading his remains at Mikey’s feet. It was burying itself deep under Mikey’s skin, but Mikey was just too numb to even feel.
He could not kiss him atop Gerard’s grave, it had been his idea. Mikey was so shaky-pale, he looked like a ghost, the ghost of someone who had been loved far beyond his own capability.
Frank wrapped his arms around the fragile boy to make sure he did not disappear again.
He saw Gerard’s headstone, and he knew what was wrong. He was never meant to be under the cold dirt and the rocks. Beneath the grass that was thick with dew, fragile jeweled diamonds clinging to the ends of the stems. Gerard did not belong to the earth. He should have been engulfed in flames and scattered in places he loved.
Frank knew that his own ashes would have been at home in Mikey’s closet. He wondered if they belonged in the same wooden box as Gerard’s should have been.
Violent violet paper petals wilted, hanging their faces towards the earth. He shouldn’t be down there, they whispered, and Frank couldn’t help but listen for Gerard’s ragged cries. They were silenced, however, and where had he gone? Down beneath the deep brown earth where Mikey could not follow.
He looked up to see that Mikey was lost. In trance, in dance. His eyes were open, but his gaze was blank and distorted. He saw nothing, he knew nothing. He stood before the grave plot and was lost in nothingness.
Frank watched Mikey, and Mikey watched dead air. Dead air dead breaths, dead stare frozen death. It was so quiet, and nothing moved. The ground surrounding their feet was painted with fallen leaves, the sky pierced by the naked branches of Winter. They were vulnerable, exposed. They jutted upwards in a jagged-scar pattern, ripping the blue-silk fabric. There was nothing to hear but the beating of their hearts, but Frank could only hear his own crash-pounding against his chest. He suddenly feared that Mikey’s had stopped beating entirely, and he pulled the frail boy towards his own shivering body. Palm over heart, make me believe you’re still alive and living.
Mikey’s heart gave a few fragile beats beneath the heat of Frank’s hand, and then shattered into jagged-branch fragments at the bottom of his stomach. It seemed that he was shrinking, the light behind his eyes dwindling until it simmered out completely.
I held on too tight, didn’t I? Mikey whispered, and his voice was made of broken glass. I’m holding on to him too tight.
Frank knew that he was holding on too tight, but Mikey needed this. He needed someone to force him to breathe in the frosty Winter air. He needed someone to hold his fragmented limbs together, collect his shattered heart in the palm of their hand. He needed to know that someone still had a visible and invisible excuse to love him, even though he had already disappeared.
Please, Mikey begged with raw sobs stuck in his chest, Love me.
I love you so fucking much, Gerard whispered from the frozen earth.
No one could hear his voice. It was carried away by the arctic breeze.
Love me, Mikey pleaded.
Frank did. He loved Mikey more than the moon could ever love the ocean. Not more than Mikey loved Gerard, but more than Frank himself could even handle. The love was ripping him apart and spreading his remains at Mikey’s feet. It was burying itself deep under Mikey’s skin, but Mikey was just too numb to even feel.
He could not kiss him atop Gerard’s grave, it had been his idea. Mikey was so shaky-pale, he looked like a ghost, the ghost of someone who had been loved far beyond his own capability.
Frank wrapped his arms around the fragile boy to make sure he did not disappear again.