From “Kindling” from my chapbook ROYGBIV. Out on @ursusamericanuspress! Link in bio.
Text: “I am happy as a fell tree. No longer burning alive. All the witches before me. All the faggots kindling. Prone and first to light. Pressured to be hot and sprout volcanoes. Steel fire, drink blood. Be done. I am a new log put on top. I rest on the hot. I am singed and singing. The circle hymns to me. In the morning I am poured water on. An erased eruption. I am a trace not left.”
She had had enough. She couldn't take it anymore. All the pain was killing her. All the weight was pinning her down. The sadness was destroying her, and the repeat of it all was burning her alive. And the worst part is, she had kept it hidden, deep within the pocket of her soul. She had held it in for as long as she could remember. It wasn't easy, letting go. Even though she was drowning in her tears, it was hard letting go of everything she had ever known. But although it was difficult, she did it. And when she did, she didn't understand how she could have kept it in for all those years. After she had revealed who she really was, deep inside, she had left him. She had broken him, too, but yet somehow, she couldn't make herself for sorry for him. She had become hard in holding it all in, that when she burst, she had nothing left to cling to, other than her hardness. She herself hadn't even realized the callus she had built up inside. But now, as she waited by the boat, she decided to climb in, and push herself far away from everyone. She didn't want their help, and she didn't want to trouble them with her hardness. With all the weight of her hard heart, the boat slowly began to slip under the surface. And at once, she was finally drowning. In the last seconds of her life, she realized that what she had done with death's enemy, was waste it. If only she could regain what she was about to lose. She felt a hand on her cheek. Her hearing was the last to go. And she heard these words: "I loved you." #story#stories#write#writer#sad#tears#broken#ilovedyou#surface#pain#drowning#weight#burningalive#depression
Uno nunca elige el arma fatal, la que lo va a matar. Ni el fuego que lo va a quemar desde las entrañas hasta los huesos. Simplemente se vuelve vulnerable, confia y se ablanda. Expone su verdadero ser, los secretos y mas vergonzosos aspectos de su vida. Y sucede entonces que no importa si tiene filo o no, la daga lastima en serio. Entra de espalda y te mata. O eso pensas. Solo ves pasar los dias mientras te desangras hasta que te das cuenta que, afuera, el mundo sigue. Sanaras y viviras de nuevo, mas audaz y desconfiado. Y no importa cuanto tiempo pase, sanaras pero la herida seguira. Y solo hara falta una pequeña chispa, una mirada al pasar, para volver a quemarte el corazon y el cuerpo entero y la memoria. Solo sera capaz el agua del mar de apagar intenso fuego, calmar la mente y hacerte sentir nuevas brisas, que curaran cualquier herida.