I guess I had this impression that graves were supposed to resemble the dead.
I don't know where that came from. But before I visited the first time after, that's what I imagined. That the way the gravestone curved should resemble the soft angle of your cheekbones, the(more) granite soaking up the sun 'til I could lean against it and feel your warmth. The flowers I brought would be the same as the wildflowers we always picked together, from the abandoned lot behind the supermarket. We'd weave the stems into our hair, laughing. We had it down to an artform.
But your grave wasn't you. It's been two weeks and I am already forgetting your face. The stone catches shade from a plot two over, and it's cold to the touch. I leave the flowers near, but I can't braid them into my own hair as well as I could yours. The lush verdancy is such a contrast to the dirt lot. It's like the broken bottles are being driven into my heart instead of the soles of my feet.
The grass isn't dead here. You are. And it will always hurt to remember that.
We talked about her all the time.
The cat lady that lived two streets over.
We looked for the cats, spent hours ducked under trucks, ignoring burning pavement and then sharp branches, as we coaxed kittens out of bushes.
I guess we kind of marvelled that one lady could(more) get so many cats in one place. She seemed a lot less lonely than the two of us. (less)
It's raining tonight, old man.
I know you can feel it.
Your joints are weak and your bones creak and you can feel the dampness in your legs, in your arms, in your chest.
Your body is failing, and it's not just age. It's a gift from the people.(more) Your people.
You thought your people had forgotten you, hadn't you?
No, the people don't forget promises. And you promised them everything. You really were a shining hope to believe in, you know?
But you betrayed your people for riches, so your decrepit body could lie here today on this satin pillow, looking at the rain through velvet curtains. While twenty years ago, your people lay in the muddy streets, dying of disease and tumors the size of cantaloupes.
But that was twenty years ago. And this is today. And if you feel their souls staring up at you from every gold coin you posess, that's just your old age finally getting to you. Because that was in the past.
Only a devil of the past, you say?
No. The devil always keeps on eye on his investments. (less)
Sometimes I look down the street
and remember the green grass
and the hot sun
and my nails scrabbling at your skin,
my lungs gasping for oxygen while you both held me down.
It just isn't the same without you here.
disney always talks of true love,
love of your life,
i was thirteen years old and naivety was my middle name.
but if you try and tell me i didn't love that boy true enough
i'll slit your throat with the razors of my once-sinless innocence
and(more) tell you that if god only meant for us to have one perfect match each
why did he create so many people? (less)
When you fidget impatiently. When you talk a mile a minute. When you're contemplatively silent. When your eyes catch the light of the sun. When you laugh. When ask a thousand questions. When you act like the world hasn't brought you down yet. When anger tinges your voice. When(more) you wave goodbye. When you wave hello. When you ask "How are you today?"
When you roll up your sleeves. When you kiss her. When your eyes get lost in the lines you're drawing on the paper.
Everyone finds themselves stuck somewhere-
on muddy dirt roads,
in dead-end jobs,
in foreign airports,
in loveless marriages,
in lives we never wanted to live.
(more) What matters is how you un-stick yourself. (less)
"It'll be perfectly safe, sir," one of my assistant researchers tells the subject. "We're very dedicated to saftey here. There are, obviously, many risks involved with a procedure such as this, but we've been very sure to minimize them. We have trained medical officers here to monitor you. If(more) something goes bad, we can turn the machine off immediately and, as soon as it goes off, you won't be left with any lasting effects. It's like a pass-or-fail test, really, either it works or it doesn't, but either way you'll be fine."
"If I was worried about safety, Doc, I don't think I'd be letting you zap me with a bunch of laser ray things," the subject said in a joking tone.
"Strap him in," I say. I am impatient. If this works properly, the entire world will be changed.
The machine stirs to life. Everything appears to be working properly. The only variable that might cause a problem is the subject. It will be a test of the human body.
Suddenly, an inhumanly bloody scream pierces the room and the subject's limbs start twitching in odd directions.
"Shut it down, shut it down," the on-hand medic is screaming. But I can't. I can't shut it down. This is my whole life's work. This is all I've ever wanted. I grab the technician's hand to stop her from pushing the button that will stop everything. My hand crushing her delicate fingers. I'm snarling and someone's pulling me back but it can't end, not yet.
The subject continues seizing, but the man monitoring the subjects vitals is calling it. The subject is dead. The machine is still running. (less)