Bloodletting


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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.