Status: accepting authors
Painted Scenes
May 6th
Mid-day dandelion seeds float eagerly through fresh spring air. Jasmine and rosemary--dancing an eternal dance for the world to savor, save 'till winter comes again. Blemished shadows stick to wet pavement, the sweet scent of nature made way for spring cleaning.
I skipped along, running my fingers across the rough edges of metal gates. Numbness grating my skin. The sun laughing frivilously. I believe he knew. Yes, he knew this day would come. He would shower me in all I love as a tortured goodbye. I almost fell for it--almost.
My skin was a dingy grey, no feeling, no flush of warm blood to remind me I was alive. That was of course, I wasn't. He had taken my heart with him. Locked away from the world, just like him. His shoes lay where he left them, his cologne poluting the air. I didn't want to smell anymore, I wanted to forgot.
His memory lay all over that old creaking house. Empty without quizzical laughter. Beckoning calls ring throughout the hallways, harsh and cruel to my newly sensitive ears. It seems as though my senses have sharpened since that day. Leaving my head a torrent of never ending remorse.
I didn't say I love you enough. I didn't sooth your anguish. I wasn't the little girl you needed, I was a tiger hidden beneath a rose. My continous footsteps made a melody, both haunting and beautiful. Yes, I would leave this behind. These weren't my wounds to mend.
Yet, just as the though entered my mind, I was heading back into the belly of the beast. I had to see him one last time. One last kiss. An yet, I was waiting to be devoured, left to dissolve in acid. The rain no longer brings comfort, for now I must spend them with the tears of a clown. Smiling on the outside, a corrupt heart lay within. Running never did any help, but it provided temporary release. I walked back into my former home. His old bones resting just where they always have. Only, today was different. He didn't even recognize my face. I'll be long gone before the memory of me has sliped through his tired, aged mind. I kissed his forehead, leaving chapstick remnants in the worry lines that rested just above his eyes.
And I listened to these old Patsy Cline songs, just to feel close again. No, you're not yet dead. Your heart died with my innocence. My soul died with your last smile. I'll try to remember you the way you were, not the bitter shell of a man before me. I'll sing my pain away, because that's the only way I know how.
"See the pyramids along the nile.
Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle.
Just remember, darling, all the while.
You belong to me.
See the market place in old Algeres.
Send me photographs and souvineers.
Just remember when a dream appears,
you belong to me.
I'll be so alone without you.
Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue.
Fly the ocean in a silver plane.
See the jungle when it's wet with rain.
Just remember when you're home agian.
You belong to me."
I pulled the picture out of my otherwise empty wallet, drops of purity masking shiny film. I whiped them caustically away from the face of my great-grandfather. I could almost hear him.
"Happy, birthday, Sissy."
But of course, it was just my imagination.
"Happy birthday, Sissy," I whispered to myself. We'll be on better terms when the strike of the divine makes way for me aswell.
"...you belong to me..." he sang.
I left then, seeing those fathomless eyes. I blew a kiss. He'll understand. I just needed a little time away from this horrible dtream.
"Happy birthday, Sissy."
Those last words rang throught my being violently. I'd hear them for the rest of my life. Every year. the sixth of May. Just like the dandelions danced with the wind, my love for your will dance with the seasons, in the leaves of Autumn, the icy kiss of winter, the fragile touch of spring and the unforgiving sun of summer. No, you're not dead. Your essence in the necklace that once rested upon your beloved mother. My only permanent attachment to you.
But when I awoke, my skin was lucid, eyes clear, heart intact. Ready to share another birthday with the ones I love. I always get these little blessings in disguise, I believe it's fate asking me to be thankful for what I have while it's still there. I laughed at the morbidity of my dream, and smiled for the memories to come. One day, things won't be as easy as they are now, but I can only enjoy what I have while it's here.
I skipped along, running my fingers across the rough edges of metal gates. Numbness grating my skin. The sun laughing frivilously. I believe he knew. Yes, he knew this day would come. He would shower me in all I love as a tortured goodbye. I almost fell for it--almost.
My skin was a dingy grey, no feeling, no flush of warm blood to remind me I was alive. That was of course, I wasn't. He had taken my heart with him. Locked away from the world, just like him. His shoes lay where he left them, his cologne poluting the air. I didn't want to smell anymore, I wanted to forgot.
His memory lay all over that old creaking house. Empty without quizzical laughter. Beckoning calls ring throughout the hallways, harsh and cruel to my newly sensitive ears. It seems as though my senses have sharpened since that day. Leaving my head a torrent of never ending remorse.
I didn't say I love you enough. I didn't sooth your anguish. I wasn't the little girl you needed, I was a tiger hidden beneath a rose. My continous footsteps made a melody, both haunting and beautiful. Yes, I would leave this behind. These weren't my wounds to mend.
Yet, just as the though entered my mind, I was heading back into the belly of the beast. I had to see him one last time. One last kiss. An yet, I was waiting to be devoured, left to dissolve in acid. The rain no longer brings comfort, for now I must spend them with the tears of a clown. Smiling on the outside, a corrupt heart lay within. Running never did any help, but it provided temporary release. I walked back into my former home. His old bones resting just where they always have. Only, today was different. He didn't even recognize my face. I'll be long gone before the memory of me has sliped through his tired, aged mind. I kissed his forehead, leaving chapstick remnants in the worry lines that rested just above his eyes.
And I listened to these old Patsy Cline songs, just to feel close again. No, you're not yet dead. Your heart died with my innocence. My soul died with your last smile. I'll try to remember you the way you were, not the bitter shell of a man before me. I'll sing my pain away, because that's the only way I know how.
"See the pyramids along the nile.
Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle.
Just remember, darling, all the while.
You belong to me.
See the market place in old Algeres.
Send me photographs and souvineers.
Just remember when a dream appears,
you belong to me.
I'll be so alone without you.
Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue.
Fly the ocean in a silver plane.
See the jungle when it's wet with rain.
Just remember when you're home agian.
You belong to me."
I pulled the picture out of my otherwise empty wallet, drops of purity masking shiny film. I whiped them caustically away from the face of my great-grandfather. I could almost hear him.
"Happy, birthday, Sissy."
But of course, it was just my imagination.
"Happy birthday, Sissy," I whispered to myself. We'll be on better terms when the strike of the divine makes way for me aswell.
"...you belong to me..." he sang.
I left then, seeing those fathomless eyes. I blew a kiss. He'll understand. I just needed a little time away from this horrible dtream.
"Happy birthday, Sissy."
Those last words rang throught my being violently. I'd hear them for the rest of my life. Every year. the sixth of May. Just like the dandelions danced with the wind, my love for your will dance with the seasons, in the leaves of Autumn, the icy kiss of winter, the fragile touch of spring and the unforgiving sun of summer. No, you're not dead. Your essence in the necklace that once rested upon your beloved mother. My only permanent attachment to you.
But when I awoke, my skin was lucid, eyes clear, heart intact. Ready to share another birthday with the ones I love. I always get these little blessings in disguise, I believe it's fate asking me to be thankful for what I have while it's still there. I laughed at the morbidity of my dream, and smiled for the memories to come. One day, things won't be as easy as they are now, but I can only enjoy what I have while it's here.