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Rapturous Obsession

I can’t get you

Out of my mind.

You barge through every boundary

That I ever defined.

You occupy every room vacant

In every corner of my senses

In broad daylight there are illusions..

Could you not generate these pretenses?

You blur my sight

With crystal clear delusions

My reality does fumble

When you strengthen your visions.

Pleasantly you present

Your devilishly sweet smile

Then you linger and wander in my thoughts

For more than ‘a while.’

If only you weren’t a dream

And were truly near me.

If only you weren’t a fantasy

And were my blissful reality.

Would you dare?

If you had no face

Would you still glance at the mirror

In hopes of seeing your feautures

Albeit in a blur?

If you had no eyes

Would you brave looking at the sun

To all but hope

That the blazing fireball can have your blindness undone?

If you had no hair

Would you be bold enough to weild a comb

To hope to know

How It bares its teeth to strands of gold brown and chrome?

If you had no heart

Would you dare to love with your being

Only to hope

To feel at least a little.. At least something?

Should've been studying for my test but noOooo..

And now I have the drawing of a skull....

YEET ME FROM A WINDOW 💀

Room of Memories

In that corner of the room

Behind the curtains of that room

Lives a small part of me

Lives a younger me.

The infant that I once was

The infant that became me

Resides in this room

As memories of sorrow and glee.

Every tear that stained

Every smile that was made

Resides in this room

Where i joyfully played.

I remember only

Two spent days

One where I left for greed

And one where the child in me stays.

The instant I left

The comforts of this room

The adult in me selfishly rejoiced

While my younger self drowned in doom.

The day i returned

Was a day of discovery

Of not the new

But the old, joyous younger me.

He had found her. He had finally found her. They had taken-no, ripped-her away from him, but now he'd found her.

He didn't remember anymore the exact time or date she was taken. He didn't need to as he had found her.

But had he truly found HER?

He wasn't so sure as he took in her stance- back slightly hunched and hands in front of her, eyes flickering from one gaurd to the other as if trying to decipher who would pounce first.

He walked closer and glared at the guards as they backed away. He wanted to gather her in his arms.. He wanted to see her face light up as she recognised him.

But when she saw him, her expression didn't change. Her eyes didn't fill with recognition nor did her stance relax at the slightest.

She's afraid of me? She is...

She is.

With each step forward she stepped back till she couldn't anymore.

She looked around at a chance of an escape.

She couldn't go back- no. She'd rather have these men kill her than keep her alive and tempt her with death. She doesn't remember much of what they did.. And for that she's thankful as whatever little she remembers, she wishes to forget. Because there's nothing more frightening that seeing glimpses of water and the feeling of arms flailing as water sloshes and slaps your face and muffled laughter and then...-

-waking up in the dark alley. There's nothing more scary than seeing glimpses of death and surviving without knowing what you did to survive.

The man in front of her had soft eyes and had his hand outstretched. He seemed trustworthy... And warm. She could do with a but of warmth right now. She trusts him.. Why? Maybe he looks an awful lot like the hazy blur she remembers. She takes his hand and steps into his embrace.

She is engulfed by him. His arms wraps around her, his scent soothes her and his warmth invites her to drown in him. She is completely engulfed. He whispers with a ghost of a smile, "I got you. Nobody's ever going to hurt you now my chicken nugget."

Chicken nugget? Why does that sound so familiar to her?

Her hand fishes through her dress on its own accord, frantically searching.. Chicken nugget..she feels the cold hard surface of a metal. What was it doing in her dress? - chicken- before she knows what her body is doing her hand has slammed the knife into his back. - nugget. She drags the knife down his back, along his spine, rips it out and plunges it into his back again.

Chicken nugget- a mere whisper in her mind as her hazy vision clears and she sees him.

The gaurds have sprung into action, hooking her arms behind her at a odd angle, and shoving her onto the ground.

But she doesn't seem to care. Memories came crashing down on her. She had killed him and they had struck through her. Triggering her to stab when she heard the 2 words: chicken nugget.

She couldn't even cry. She couldn't even scream.

They had used a symbol of their love to all but destroy it.

I know you wonder why I embrace you even after you broke me. You hold me, nonetheless, but your brow creases in confusion, I’ve noticed. To put it quite simply, I don't want anybody else to wrap their arms around me because no one quite gathers me in their arms like you do. Unfortunately for me, the hands that broke my heart are the only ones I trust with the shattered pieces. In every touch there is a bit of fear, some urgency and a restrain. My hands rush to touch your face but as they near it they struggle to go on.

What if I hurt you? What if you don't want me to even touch you anymore? We’ve already hurt each other so much… Why cant we stay away?

But then when our faces are buried in the crook of each other’s neck and when our arms are around each other it becomes clear why we cant seem to let go. After all no one lets go of their home… even if its burning down. And that's exactly how this feels. We’re burning down. The flame is dying but the fire is blazing, it singes whatever we had and burns the edges off of every memory together to the point where I don't think I’ll be able to piece them together again. We’re burning down and we’re clinging on to the charred ends of the bond that tied us.

Embracing you feels like I’m choking even though you were every breath I needed once. It burns my lungs from the inside and after a while i can feel them collapsing in my chest but I refuse to let go. The tighter I hold on to you the more I strangle myself. I’m told I will die if I go on. I agree with them. The thought doesn't scare me though for dying in a place you believe is home makes death less terrifying.

When I see what I’ve held on to, however, I see the ghost of what you were…

What we were… And I realize that you are not here. Never were and never will be.

So when you wonder why I hold you so tight when I hug you it’s because I know that’s the only way I’ll ever be that close to you.

☕Follow @coffee-beans-sprout-sunflowers on instagram☕

》》-- > ❤ < --《《

"You could've killed me 2 years ago... Could've killed me 3 weeks ago when you moved in with me. You wanted to... So why didn't you?"

He didn't react one bit. He just continued setting up the area for his next and final murder. He vowed he'd never kill anyone ever again but killing this target was necessary.

Are the chains are nice and tight around her wrists? Check.

Dagger sharpened? Check.

Is the-

"Give me one good reason why you didn't stab me the minute you set foot in my apartment. WHY DAMMIT?!"

"Because it wouldn't have been painful enough. Now stop asking questions. You're distracting me."

He simply turned around, put his finger to his lips and shushed her like he was dealing with a child.

She kept silent for a while.

She couldn't believe the man standing in front of her was the criminal the police came to warn her about. After the first murder, they had knocked on her door, asking if she had witnessed any suspicious activity- little did she know she was living with the murderer.

She woke up everyday to find him humming a tune and flipping pancakes, sometimes an omlete, and went to sleep knowing that he'd be there if she woke up having a nightmare.

She spent all this while loving him and visualising their future together while he probably spent that time thinking if he should stab her in the guts or slit her throat.

He hadn't touched her. Not a scratch. He simply dragged her along and hoisted her up with chains. The chains were lose enough not to hurt but tight enough to not let her free.

A few hits probably wouldn't hurt as much as the betrayal she felt.

How could I be so stupid?

A traitor tear slid down her face.

He whipped around and cradled her face in his hands. He cooed and consoled but she'd have none of it.

'Get away from me.'

He had heard her but he couldn't let his love cry.

'I SAID GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!'

He stepped back and squared his shoulders but his eyes were soft- letting her decipher everything he felt.

But he was a puzzle she didn't wish to solve anymore.

He loosened the chains as she furrowed her brows in confusion.

She cradled her wrists and rubbed her palms together for some warmth but when she looked up she could feel her face pale.

He stood there, dagger in hand, with his eyes trained on her. He took a step closer and she shut her eyes, mentally asking for forgiveness from whoever she wronged.

Another step closer and she was forgiving all those who had wronged her.

A third step closer and she was making her peace with her mother who would probably weep over her grave and -

A gasp followed by a muffled screaming and whimpering was heard. She heard feet shuffle then something slip and finally, a thud echoed around her.

She hadn't felt any pain. Wasn't a dagger piercing through your flesh supposed to hurt?

She opened her eyes and she couldn't scream. No. She couldn't blink. No. All she could do was run to his fallen figure and nestle his head in her arms as he bled out. He took out the dagger and stabbed himself again--this time straight to his heart, expertly avoiding hitting the ribs...the experience of his 13 previous kills helping him for once.

She only gasped out a 'why.'

"werent you supposed to kill me?... You weren't supposed to die."

She couldn't believe she'd rather take his place when only a second ago she-

"It was always meant to be me. If I'd killed myself t-two years ago, or t-three weeks a-ago, it wouldn't have been as p-painful."

"I killed 13 people, love. I d-deserve to feel this pain. And the most p-painful way had to be to let go of the one I loved the m-most... You. I-I love.. I love you. God I love you so much I...

I-"

"Ethan?"

"Ethan?!"

"ETHAN come on don't you die on me."

She lowered herself and kissed his forehead. "I love you, too."

Loved her conscience reminded.

No. LOVE she corrected.

She moved the hair out of his face and cried; looked into his eyes one last time and cried some more. She cried till she felt numb enough to not feel the cold concrete beneath her and wept enough to find the dark consuming her... Comforting.

And that was the first time someone mourned for the criminal.

My chest has been a graveyard of resentments, unresolved traumas, and anomalies of burdens best not spoken of. Here near the wrought iron gates lay the bones of little deaths that no longer hurt, strategically placed at the entrance as to filter the horror of what’s ahead. They are the well-tended ones among the others, lined with oak trees and clean, morose-looking stone angels upon the sun-dappled grounds. The air smell like freshly cut grass at all times, and butterflies can be seen fluttering among the vivid rainbow of wildflowers.

Everyday, after giving that area loving looks, I start by placing flowers upon the tombs of those I should’ve and shouldn’t have said, of those I couldn’t, and those I no longer have the chance to. They do almost no damage. Not a single tear shed for them but somehow they are hardest to let go. Even after many the pretenses of healing I always find myself coming back and surprisingly knowing which tomb to go to, parallel to what’s eating away my brains at the given moment.

Buried a little further, in sodden soils and balding grass, are the manifold agonies hardly ever silenced. These are the shadows that follow me everywhere― etching themselves onto my skin, digging deep with their claws, infiltrating my purpling veins, rusting the way I see the world. They are the screams and wails that scraped my throat. Here lay the sins I haven’t forgiven myself from, perhaps I couldn’t, for ten, twenty, thirty more years―not until the lips that utters the apology learns to not tremble terribly to speak of forgiveness.

Beyond the grotesquely gnarled trees are the yawning ravened skies, beneath them the little deaths that don’t feel little at all. I do not grieve them for I fear them. The mere mention of their existence is enough to steal a couple of peaceful beats from my heart. I do not go there often but it is beyond my control when I do. The walks are always done in a trance, my senses suspended apart from being aware of the enveloping darkness and the whispering mist. Then, before the rotting area of fissured tombstones, stone crosses, and moss-covered gargoyles upon the wide stretch of withered grass, littered with bones and damp fallen branches; I will feel again. This is the part where my knees give up. The entities that diminish reason will torment my head again. For some reasons I have not yet been given the strength to mother the words to account the torture. I will emerge days later― drenched, shivering, and detached from reality.

Until now I can’t say I know these leaves-strewn grounds too well. I still discover headstones for little deaths I did not know I had, some too old that I couldn’t make out the inscriptions, some long forgotten I do not know what remains are underneath.

And just when I thought I’ll never be too broken than I am now, the gentle daybreak revealed acres of soil for more burials.

— autumn artemis, The Graveyard Breathes

11|19|2020

photo from: pinterest

She looked at me like i had grown two heads. Her dress was absolutely drenched and I was sure if I stayed in the rain for a minute more I'd have to wake up tomorrow sneezing.

"My knees are kind of hurting now.." I said in between laughs, "an answer right about now would be nice." My worry only grew as I saw her face held no trace of amusement.

Did I mess up? Or did I... - Her eyes were back to being lifeless and emotionless.. Like they were whenever she'd talk about her father. No!

Suddenly, as if something in her snapped, she took off- running out of the park. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, slipping a few times because of the rain. My heart broke seeing how frantic she was.. Running away as if she were prey.

To my horror she ran onto the streets.. Thank God its late night and the streets are empty.. This girl is going to be the death of me.

"Cara! Cara.. Wait, please!" I ran after her. If she thought she could just run away from me and my feelings and her emotions, she's wrong. "Cara stop... Please!" I can't let her run away.. from us!

"Cara?! STOP!" I screamed as loud and clear as my cracked voice would allow me...,"Please. " She stood deathly still - well as still as she could be while crying- a street light illuminating her sobbing figure.

"Was it something I said?"

No answer.

"Did I do something wrong?"

No answer.

"Why did you run?"

No answer.

I combed my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Cara at least talk to me, damn it!"

"I DON'T DESERVE IT, OKAY?! I don't deserve ANY of it! Not your time, not your effort, not you and definitely not your love."

A deathly silence ensued which put a wall of sorts between us. She stood rooted to her spot and i couldn't help but feel my heart twist and clench in pain.

I took a step forward only to have her step - no, flinch back-... Well, ouch.

"Cara, who told you so? Who was it? Who told you that you didn't dese-"

"He did. She did. They ALL did... Damon, I would've brushed it off if it were just him but...How can ALL of them be wrong?!"

I couldn't tell what hurt more at this point. The ankle I twisted while running after her, my heart that shattered one word at a time.. Or the fact that there were years of hurt and tears behind every smile she put up.

"Cara, I won't go about reciting a cheesy monologue now because.. Well, I don't want you to punch me. So no, I will not say you deserve the moon and the stars and blah blah blah.. What I will say is," I took a deep breath in, this is it!

"I can only give you what I have to give. It may not be what you want or deserve.. But it is definitely something that you need, I need... We need. So, Cara, right now I don't have the power to heal you.. But i promise you that you will heal, I will heal..That we will heal--together. I offer you my love and I damn well have enough love to last a lifetime and then some...... I mean sure, its not good enough for you to deserve but-," I looked down as I came to the close of my speech.

Before I could finish my sentence I felt someone jump onto me and smash their lips on mine. She wrapped her legs around my waist and tangled her fingers in my hair.

I'm going to take that as a sign that I did well. Woot woot! Did I really just say 'wppt woot'? I'm a grown man for heaven's sake. Jeez.

We broke apart, out of breath, and rest our foreheads against each other's.

"Don't you ever say you're not good enough for me."

She giggled a bit as she jumped off of me and I bit back a groan of frustration as she took her warmth with her. "Oh, and by the way?...

... Yes"

It took me a second to realise.. And when I did I'm pretty sure I made her want to reconsider her decision, given the way I was jumping and squealing. I vaguely remember lifting her and spinning her around as she laughed freely, before i slipped the ring on her finger.

We walked together, hand in hand, getting drenched in the rain. For the first time I was myself without a care in the world.. Not caring who saw or judged or envied. I had her hand in mine and that's all that mattered... Other than the fact that she also agreed to be mine.. Yea.. You get the point. Dammit I just HAD to be awkward and ruin a fuzzy romantic story.

"I'm here for my things."

I thought I saw his eyes light up when he opened the door and saw me, but he clamped his mouth shut at my blunt greeting.

I'm here for my stuff.. NOT HIM. Pfft...

Lies.

I gather everything that I recognised as mine.. From the little keychain to the framed photos of us-

Every.

Little.

Thing.

I wanted to pretend so bad that this didn't happen. Wanted so desperately to forget the days I spent with him. I just want to let go of every mome-

"You're spacing out. Are you-"

"I'm fine,ok? Not like you care anyways."

Who am I kidding? He cared more about me than I did.

I mistook his silence for his absence and continued packing until I felt him grab my elbow and turn me to face him.

He didn't say anything. He just stared into my eyes. He didn't have to coax me with words into confessing that I didn't mean what I said.... That I know he cared- cares. He knew.

He

Knew.

He looked at me with so much certainty and sincerity that I found myself unable to lie to him.. To lie to myself.. To lie to us.

"Alright fine! I didn't mean what I said. And I know you know! God! You know why I'm doing this.. Yet you keep making this more difficult for me to do. Why won't you let me do this?! WHY WONT YOU JUST LET ME-"

"Go?"

He completed my outburst in an eerily calm tone. He said that one word in a resolute tone as if he was making me realise that what I was asking him to do was impossible.. And God I was SO close to believing him.

"I'm am not letting you go. You are running away. There's a difference."

He took a step closer to my almost full bag and picked up the frame I'd just taken down. He gazed at it.. At us- NO, he admired us.

"I am not going to let you go because your days are numbered," he said as he stalked to the wall and hung the frame in its rightful place.

"If you are to die, then I'd rather have you die in my arms rather than alone in a cold bed surrounded by people who aren't worthy of mourning you."

And at that moment i knew that I hadn't come for here to get my things.