| Bloodletting |
[07 Dec 2005|06:31pm] |
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Bloodletting
by dani
This is my time. A ritual bloodletting of the soul. I hold a prayer for the past and its long forgotten ghosts and offer a minute of silence to the ones that haunt me still.
Uncertain, I remember in the hope that I forget.
Drifting under dead wood with the memories of distant dreams and things that vanish into the horizon like my love. Was it you that I called for?
Forget me not, her eyes said to me once as I played for her and prayed for her. Played between the lines for a single petal of her time, to shape a flower like a kiss for her to sing to.
And I believed her when she told me I was broken.
Was there a symbol for what I meant to say, written in a foreign hand, understood but only in the darkness?
All is clear when I see through the blood-wine pain and haze of my revulsion.
Into storms and absences and underneath the scars of my devotion. I heard a rhythm here, symmetrical and recorded.
I listened and I writhed with the anguish of the world, and I fell… but only in her time.
And now I am. Spreading thinner and thinner until I disappear into a crystalline layer across a tumultuous sky.
Breathing her lies and believing in forever.
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