Puzzle

Days pass by in measured silence;

Anchor down my beating heart-

Tethered by inconstancy

That tears my world apart.

Breathing deep the winter’s cold

Sunsets fade within my mind

Brighter days leave longer shadows

As I leave the coast behind.

The eastern sun is dying dimly.

Tides of August ebb away

So concerned with future heartache,

We forgot about today.

Our puzzle didn’t seem to fit,

Though fingers locked more tight,

We tossed the dream, forgot the box

And sealed our hearts too tight.

So what if we were wrong, my dear?

I can’t live without your smile

What if watching summer wane,

Is killing me the while?

I said I couldn’t share the key

Wouldn’t open up the cage

And let the lark within me fly

My heart upon this page.

But somewhere in the memories

My little guard let go

And somewhere tangled deep within,

There’s something you should know.

The golden moon we shared that night,

The crashing silver shore,

Left my heart bewildered

Knocking at your door.

In summer’s grace you caught me,

In autumn’s grace I fell,

I know that may seem backwards

But the truth is hard to tell.

Time, it passes slowly,

Each day without you here

Makes memories more vivd

And future dreams more clear.

What if under eastern stars

That shell became my heart?

And, broken, now I try to live

With only just a part?

Would you return the favor, dear?

The puzzle that you stole-

See, you’re the piece that fits, I think

And together we’d be whole.

Assateague

I close my eyes and breathe deep, wishing to smell the thick, salty air of Assateague once again. The air here in Texas is thin, dry, and hot, not at all like east coast air. All I smell is dust and dirt, but I keep my eyes closed and try to remember anyway. 

It’s nearing midnight and we are sitting in a lifeguard stand a couple hundred yards down the beach from everyone else. We’ve ended up there after walking along the shore as we attempt some semblance of a conversation- we’re supposed to be defining how the two of us fit together in life. At that point, I don’t think we even knew the answer. 

Walking down the beach we talked about our lives- where we’d been and where we hoped to be going. I think if I hadn’t been talking to him, I might have cried telling my sad story, but somehow with him, the sadness couldn’t take control. There was another emotion in his presence taking a deeper root.

Even now as I daydream, I am overwhelmed by the memories- visiting him at work on the boardwalk, running down the beach barefoot, playing in thunderstorms, reading poetry together well into the morning, driving to church with the stereo blaring. So many simple things that seemed like nothing at the time- so many things I took for granted. 

Not now. A thousand miles away, I miss doing laundry together on Sundays. I miss talking out at the picnic tables late at night. I miss watching him praise Jesus as he leads worship on the drums. I miss the way he gets excited about the smallest things, and then suddenly they aren’t small things to me anymore. I miss grocery shopping together. I miss cooking Sunday lunch together. I miss everything- as long as it is together. 

Together at Assateague is my favorite memory, though. It’s filed in my brain between running in the rain together and the night we both accidentally fell asleep in the girls apartment living room. Not that anything happened- it’s just funny to remember waking up and wondering why no one else found it necessary to wake us up and tell us the night before. We were on separate couches, completely oblivious to each other’s existence. And, in my defense, it was my living room, not his, and I fell asleep first. 

Assateague. 

Even the name sounds special. Like some kind of fairytale. An enchanted island of ponies where  white beaches crash with crystal waves and the sound of praise and worship drifts on the breeze. Bonfires flicker in the distance and the dark sky above us is brilliantly illuminated by a million gleaming stars, untarnished by the bright city lights of Ocean City. 

We’re sitting on the lifeguard stand together. We climbed up to talk as we watched the moon rise on the cloudy eastern horizon. At all the right moments, the moon breaks through the clouds and paints a masterpiece on the seascape, broken only by the thundering waves, an ample soundtrack for our surreal moment. I don’t remember piece by piece the words that were being exchanged.

I remember I’m fiddling with a piece of shell that I’d found earlier. I’m nervous as I rub it back and forth between my fingers, keeping my hands busy. I’m trying to keep my mind off of the one place I really wished my hands could be- in his. Just in case, though, I decide to fidget with only one hand and leave my right one conveniently sitting on the seat next to me, so that it won’t be awkward if he happens to be thinking the same thing. Elementary, I know.

This is the point in which the memories get blurry. I stop remembering details and start remembering emotions. The way my stomach did summersaults every time he said something that made me smile. The way I couldn’t stop blushing after he grabbed me around the waist and plopped me back down next to him after I mockingly threatened to leave. The way the sticky air made his skin glisten in the moonlight and his eyes twinkled like the stars at everything I said. The way, slowly, after awhile, we weren’t so very far apart after all. Six inches turned into nothing rather quickly. 

There were not-so-wonderful moments too. The tone in his voice after I told him I had cut myself before. The sadness he seemed to feel for me as I poured out my life story, the good, the bad and the terrible. But, he understood. He asked questions that most people are scared to ask, hard questions. How long has it been since you last cut yourself? Why did you do it? Do you think you and Courtney will ever be friends again? He asked the questions I wished I could answer, and listened to me stumble through my thoughts, even when I didn’t know what to say. He offered advice, but most importantly he listened. He listened with his whole heart. And he ended up stealing part of mine.

He drove me to the airport on the last day. By then we had convinced ourselves that it was nothing more than a bad case of summer love. We were just friends. Friends with special memories and bright, happy futures in Texas and Pennsylvania. We were happy for each other, sad to leave, but nothing more. Before getting on the plane and waving goodbye, I told him I needed him to hold onto something for me. I held out the piece of shell from the night at Assateague. I figured it was a suitable gift to remember me by- a piece of my story to fit into his.

His face lit up and he laughed the little boy kind of laugh that I had grown so much to love. His face lit up and I could tell that something about “us” wasn’t over. But I was getting on a plane, and he was getting in a car and two very far away schools were waiting for us to bring our summer knowledge back to them. 

And that’s where the story ends. Except that I don’t think it does. I think that day at the airport was somehow connected to the day at Assateague, and I think somehow I accidentally put more than just a little shell piece of me into his hands that day. I think I accidentally gave him a whole lot more.

Close Your Eyes

Inspired by the palpitations, 

Echoes of my soul,

Reverberating verbiage,

This vertex makes me whole. 

Palpable, this sweet collision,

Tangible, it’s flame;

My heart becomes the chorus 

As it beckons you, the same.

Ardently, too ardently, 

Entranced, entwined, entangled-

Break my baneful bonds before, 

Before our song is strangled.

This wistful, mystic symphony

Euphonic in its call

Creates a passion purer bred

Than any, all in all.

With systematic susurrations,

It governs body’s beat

Succinctly synchronized,

Compartmentalize, repeat. 

Imagine yet, the freedom,

Euphoria of mind,

Gasping, grasping, atmosphere

Leaving world behind.

Take my hand, hold fast, my love,

We’ll escape this escapade-

And excavate the earth in motion,

Digging spade by spade.

Delve deep desire’s destiny,

And listen to the sound,

Circumvent the circular,

Let’s dance the globe around.

Two by two, proverbial,

We’ll heed the creed of constancy,

So close your eyes, with open heart,

Take my hands and dance with me. 

Fireflies

I like to think

That fairies 

And cheetahs

Frolic together

In some green paradise

Where kisses lay

Like whispers 

On the dew

And love isn’t

A barbed-wire,

Chain-linked fence,

Or a brick wall-

Quarried from the rocky mountains

Of wrong desires. 

No,

In my paradise,

Love is an open gate

Without a lock

And a meadow 

Of memories 

Where candied children 

Drink vanilla sunsets

And walk 

Always to remember. 

In my dreams

Almond joy

Fills our tummies 
With butterflies.

And our eyes beam 
With love.

Yes, 

That’s what it’s called.

In our paradise.

It's a kind of magic that,

In our dream, 

Can make a wilted flower 

Bloom again-

A rose is a rose

And by any other name

You still smell...

Too sweet.

Too dear.

Too real.

Stop!

This is the part 

When my mind remembers

The nightmare;

The nightmare that tore
My fantasy to pieces.

So, wake up:
In my world

Fairies don’t exist- 

And if they did, 

They sure wouldn’t dance

With cheetahs.

That is-

If cheetah’s could fly. 

Swimming, Biking, and Running for President

This is my appeal:

A simple structure of ideas

Centered on a line

Of thought, that seems

Too simple

And yet quizzically complex.

Vote for me.

Three words, one goal-

An all too simple concept.

But somehow

When you break it down-

I still lose. 

Somehow, three

Does not equal three.

It equals one.

And I am less

Than the sum of my whole. 

And each part, 

Is worse than the one before.

Why?

Vote for me?

Good question.

I have no simple answer.

Except that numbers

Are just numbers. 

But for us, numbers are 

Everything.

So give me mine

In permanent marker

On the back of my leg.

And each arm.

And I’ll show you

What digits can do.

At least-

I’ll tri.

Coping (Scene)

ALYSSA: Hey, can I come in? (long pause) 

(cheerily) So I talked to John this morning. 

PAUL: Why are you here?

ALYSSA: (ignoring him) He said he and Mel were going to the movies tonight...

PAUL: I don’t want to go.

ALYSSA: Paul...

PAUL: (sarcastically) Alyssa...

ALYSSA: You can’t stay holed up in here forever. I think going out tonight would be good for you. 

PAUL: I don’t want to go. 

ALYSSA: You haven’t left your room in the past two weeks.

PAUL: No.

(long pause)

ALYSSA: Paul, you need to hear this. I know you won’t like it, but I’m going to say it anyway. Will you just listen to me for 2 minutes? (no response) Fine. Paul, you’re being pathetic. I mean, this is ridiculous. I know Claire was your fiancee and everything, but she’s gone now. And sitting here wasting away in your misery isn’t going to bring her back. You have a family. And friends... And we care about you. And this isn’t healthy. 

PAUL: Shut up!

ALYSSA: No. I won’t shut up because you’re being a... You’re being...

PAUL: What?

ALYSSA: Selfish, irrational, and a jerk! There were other people who cared about Claire too. I probably loved her just as much as you did. She’s been my best friend since middle school. Did you think of that? And what about Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? Her parents? Have you talked to them about how they’re doing? It was their daughter that died! Don’t you think it hurt them too? Did you ever stop to think that more people were crushed than just you?

PAUL: Yeah, I get it okay? I know they’re upset. That part I understand. It’s the fact that they forgot so quickly. I mean, how could they? Why would they even want to? I... don’t... want... to... forget. 

ALYSSA: They haven’t forgotten. They’re coping, they’re moving on, they’re honoring Claire by living their lives. Don’t you think that’s what she’d want... instead of this?

PAUL: Leave me alone. You don’t understand. My entire future just died, and you’re asking me to act like nothing’s wrong? You want me to pretend Claire is replaceable? That I can just “move on”? You don’t get it. Nobody does.

ALYSSA: I’m not asking you not to grieve. I know it will take a long time to build your life back, but you can’t let go. You can’t give your life up because of Claire. She wouldn’t want it to be like that. 

PAUL: But she’s gone. She isn’t coming back. She was my life. My heart was buried with her! I don’t have a future anymore. 

ALYSSA: You’re not listening to me.

PAUL: Well, you’re not listening to me!

(long pause) 

ALYSSA: I need you, Paul. (hesitantly) I’m your sister and I’m alive. I need you because you are my brother and my friend. Mom and Dad need you. They raised you to be a great man, and they need you to be that for them. Your friends need you too. We all need you, Paul. That’s what you don’t see. This Paul that sits in here day and night fading away, this isn’t the Paul we all know, the Paul we all love. I want the real Paul back. I’m willing to wait for him, as long as he needs, but I don’t want to lose him, and I’m afraid that... I don’t want him to... Paul... (starts to cry)

PAUL: Alyssa, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how...

ALYSSA: I’m afraid for you, Paul. I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t...

PAUL: Alyssa, I’m not... That’s not... I’m not going to die!

ALYSSA: The way you talk sometimes now, sometimes it seems...

PAUL: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know...

ALYSSA: (taking a deep breath) I miss Claire so much. I know it’s hard. I’ve cried myself to sleep every night since she died. But, I’m learning to move on. Slowly. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I don’t want you to give up. Please, just try, Paul. 

(long pause) 

PAUL: (sighing) Okay.

(Alyssa hugs him, relieved)

PAUL: So, what is the name of this movie we’re going to see?

i.e. Soul Friends (Scene)

(ANNE, a high school senior, is sitting in her car in the parking lot, waiting for her brother after school. Her face is red and she has obviously been crying. CARA, also a senior, is sitting in the passenger seat, where she obviously is not welcome. The conversation seems to be a continuation of a previous string of events and we find out that this tension is due in part to a letter CARA gave ANNE earlier in the day.)

CARA: Anne, Anne, listen to me. Look, I know this looks like... (sighs)... It looks like a lot of things. But I think...

ANNE: Shut up. Just leave me alone.

CARA: But you’re mad at me. At least let me try to explain why I did it. (ANNE glares pointedly at CARA) Alright, so I talked to my mom last night, and like I said in the letter, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I told her, well, not everything, but I told her... a lot... and she had a lot of good advice for us. She doesn’t think we have to stop being friends. I told her that was impossible. But she did bring up the verse about if your hand causes you to stumble...

ANNE: Yeah, I get it. You want to cut me off. You want me out of your life. You hate me. Well, guess what? I don’t hate you and I’m not leaving. Unlike some people, I don’t give up on friendships, even when they’re hard. Can we talk about this later?

CARA: No, we always talk about stuff “later”. That’s why this happened. 

ANNE: Oh! So now this is all my fault? I think we can both agree this is a mutual misdemeanor. 

CARA: No, no, no... I’m not blaming you. If anything, this is all my fault. Look, Anne, I love you, and I’m sorry I hurt you this much. (starting to cry) I know right now that more words are only going to make this worse. But I can’t change the facts, I can’t take back the pain, but I would if I could. If I could take it all away so you didn’t have to hurt, I would. But that’s not gonna happen. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I tried to get us help. Please, please try understand. I’m not trying to hurt you.

ANNE: Well, you did. 

(Silence. Anne reaches up to wipe Cara’s tears. Cara turns away.)

CARA: (whispers) I know. 

ANNE: So what am I supposed to say? I love you more than anyone in the world and you’re telling me you don’t want to be my friend anymore? You told your mom, Cara. You’re mom. That’s like, I don’t know... No more sleepovers for the rest of our lives. No more nothing. She’ll never let you hang out with me again. And what now? You tell me how we’re supposed to be “just friends”? What does that even mean? Cara, you promised---

CARA: I know, but I was wrong. We both were.

ANNE: Wait, are you saying the promise is off? Like, forever? Cara, this isn’t a joke, you swore that you would always be my blood sis---

CARA: No. We can’t be like that. 

ANNE: But David and Jonathan! Cara, it’s from the Bible! It’s a covenant, so that when things like this happen, we’ll still know that it will all work out. Please, don’t do this to me. Promise me that when this is over, you’ll still be here. Please...

CARA: But we were wrong.

ANNE: Is that all you can say? “No, we were wrong?”

CARA: Well, I have a lot more to say if you’d let me. 

ANNE: I’m done. Get out of the car, I’m going home. Actually, I’m not going home. I’m running away, but it’s not like it matters to you where I go. 

CARA: Anne, calm down. I’ll leave, but promise me you wont do anything rash tonight. Anne? Anne, look at me. Promise?

ANNE: (deliberately not looking) I take no responsibility at this point.

CARA: (starting to cry again) Oh my gosh, Anne. No. Please. I’m sorry. Please, please just promise you wont... hurt yourself. 

(ANNE simply watches as CARA cries, waiting for her to leave.)

CARA: I’m not getting out of this car until you swear that nothing is going to happen to you tonight. I’ll blame myself if you... if it happens again. 

ANNE: (Exhasperated.) Ugh! Why would you care? You don’t. If you did, then you wouldn’t have talked to your mom. You would have waited for us to talk about this civilly. We could have figured it out. 

CARA: For the past five months we’ve been trying to “figure it out,” Anne! And look at us now! We can’t even have a normal conversation with each other! And you’re back to cutting and me, I’m... I’m...

ANNE: Don’t say it. 

CARA: We’re not okay! (Takes a deep breath and exhales slowly to stop her hiccuping sobs.) I want it to be okay. And I don’t know what we did to make it go wrong, but it is messed up now, Anne. My mom... my mom didn’t even want me to tell her everything.

ANNE: (Deliberately changing subjects.) I talked to Ms. Elliot today.

CARA: What?

ANNE: I told her about the letter. 

CARA: What did you say? Oh my gosh, she probably thinks I’m---

ANNE: She’s not judging either one of us. That’s why I went to her. I thought it would be better to cry in her classroom than in the bathroom and risk the counselor finding me.

CARA: Oh... Well? 

ANNE: She just hugged me and tried to get me to stop crying. I think I scared her pretty bad. 

CARA: Was this during 8th period? 

ANNE: Yeah, you were in athletics. I told Mrs. Carlson I needed to go to the library to take a test. I tried to hold it together after I read the letter... but I couldn’t. And I didn’t want to cry in the middle of study hall. 

CARA: I’m sorry.

ANNE: Stop saying that. 

CARA: Well, I am. 

ANNE: “Sorry” doesn’t fix anything. 

i.e. Soul Friends (Monologue)

ANNE: This necklace? Oh, it’s nothing... and everything. You know what I mean? I don’t know why I still wear it. See, my best friend gave it to me. My ex-best friend. Here look at it, it says, “I’m so thankful our paths crossed.” But that’s all it was, a crossing, you know. A hello, a goodbye, and we’re on our own again. I met her my junior year of high school. I was new at the school and couldn’t get my locker open. She offered to help. Well, we went from athletics class partners to eternal soul sisters in two years flat. Then graduation came, and heck, I still don’t even know what all went wrong. I do know that it took me a whole semester of college to forget. I mean, it still hurts to think about, but at least I stopped waking up hoping today would be the day she’d call, today would be the day we could be best friends again. I remember the last time I saw her before we both moved to school. She didn’t even say goodbye, just walked away. Ran, actually. And didn’t even look back. I guess everybody has their own road. She had to follow hers, and I had to follow mine. Maybe it’s better that way. But you know, as much as I wish I could hate her for how much she hurt me... “I’m so thankful her path crossed mine.” I guess that’s why I still wear it. It’s life, you know, you just have to keep walking and don’t look back. Cara taught me that.


(This is a monologue that goes with the "Scene" I will be posting soon. They're both, in theory, from a more developed play that I hope to eventually complete. Feedback on both is greatly appreciated, since I will eventually be trying to complete the work as a whole!)

Who Am I?

     I fell asleep tonight thinking about Me. I fell asleep looking at myself in my mind's Mirror and when I awoke in that wonderful, fantastical World of Dreams, I stood before that Mirror and no reflection looked back at me. I did not know who I was. The Mirror spoke to me in parables that I could not understand, and try as I might, my reflection would not return. I decided, therefore, to ask the Mirror to tell me who I was and why I could not see myself.

     “Mirror, Mirror, here with me, whose reflection do you see?"

     The Mirror was silent. It would not speak to me, except in words I could not understand, and so, I took a rock and smashed the Mirror, and as I did all the words and parables the Mirror was saying turned into spirits that rushed away and fled into the Woods. The spirits all had the same face, I realized, and that face was mine.

     There was one spirit that lingered on the edge of the Forest of My Thoughts. I looked at her and saw in her eyes anger and fear and pain and it made me want to cry. I looked at her for a moment and then I ran because she was not beautiful. She was dark and ugly and she was not Me.

      I ran into the Woods looking for the lost spirit that I would know was Me. I searched and searched until I found Me sitting by a brook singing. I approached her and said, "Hello, what is your name?"

     I don't know why I asked her name, because obviously she was Me, but that's not what she said.

     She said, "My name is Innocence." And as I looked at her I saw all my childhood dreams enraptured on her face and all the sweetness and goodness and loveliness I had ever felt rang in the pure tone of her voice. She was so young and full of life. She was precious and I loved her. I held out my hand to her, but she shrank back.

     "Don't touch me," she said, fear trembling in her voice. "I don't know you."

     "But, of course you do! Don't you recognise me?" I said taken aback.

     She shook her curly head and laughed. "We may have met once, and I do think I remember seeing you before, but that was a long time ago!"

     I frowned. What did she mean? I reached out to take her hand, but she flitted away and before I could chase her she was gone. Her laughter lingered in the air, that was a long time ago, and I realized she was right. I was not Innocence anymore.

     I kept traveling through those mysterious Woods until I found Me again sitting on the earth's floor, reading a Book. I approached, sure that I had found the one true Me.

     "Hello," I said, "What's your name?"

     The girl looked up at me. She looked back down at her Book and then back at me. "Faith," she said, as if it were the only logical answer.

     I smiled, "Are you reading the book of James? That's my favorite, you know."

     Faith beamed and showed me the page: James chapter three. "Do you believe?" She asked and I looked at her, incredulous.

     "Of course I believe! If you believe, then I believe. We're the same person!" I said testily.

     Faith shook her head firmly. "There's a difference between saying so and believing so. Only if you believe can you be made right. Do you believe with all your heart?"

     "Sure, I guess."

     "I'll only be real when you are sure. Only when you believe with all your heart..." Faith disappeared, vanishing into thin air like the morning dew. She wasn't Me either.

     I kept searching and searching and found many other Me's. I met a Me named Talent and one named Wisdom; I met a Me named Love and one named Happiness. I met many, many Me's, but just like the first two, they all disappeared.

     I was lost and confused in my own mind. I trudged through the Pools of Memory trying to find Me, but I could find nothing. I collapsed on a tree stump, baffled and disoriented. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement. I turned around and there she was. The Me with dark and sinister eyes, the first Me I had seen within the Forest. She approached slowly, like a cat slinking around its prey, trying to find the softest place in which to sink its teeth.

     I spoke first. "What is your name?" I asked, though I really didn't want to know.

     "You," she said, her reply dripping sweetly from her tongue, making me want to consume and believe it with all my heart. But, there was a glint in her eye that made me pause.

     "You're lying," I said as she lurked closer. My voice quivered.

     "Fear," she said, and I believed her. She kept going, "Hate, Agony, Lust, Deceit, Greed..." Each name dropped from her tongue like sugar delights and I ate them ravenously, savored them as I believed her. It scared me, but it was too delicious to resist those candied words.

     "Me." She said finally, and the last gumdrop fell from her mouth, bright and red. I ate it, but it was sour. I spat it out. That was a caramelized lie, and suddenly I knew it.

     "You tricked me!" I yelled and she only laughed. She laughed and laughed as she held out her hand and ran her fingers across my cheek. Her eyes swam, dark pools upon her face, and I could see evil there. I shuddered.

     "You believed me," she said knowingly, "and that's all it takes."

     "No!" I screamed and pushed her away. The pools in her eyes caught fire. "That's not me!" I said pointing at her. She started laughing again, like a hyena. Loathing boiled in me and I screamed again.

     "No!" That devil child lying in the dirt before me laughing at me, was not Me. She was deformed, crooked, and evil. She was secretive and lying. She was spiteful, covetous, and mean. She was bad. She was not Me!

     Suddenly her face blanched and she stopped laughing. A tear rolled down her cheek.

     "Don't kill me," she whimpered and scrambled to my hold my feet. "Don't send me away!"

     "Too late..." I said and I kicked her. I kicked her clear out of my Mind, far, far away.

      Then I woke up.

     I woke up this morning thinking about Me. When I looked in the mirror I saw Her. I saw Them, actually. I saw all the girls I had met in the Forest: Innocence, Faith, Talent, Wisdom, Love, Happiness, and all the other Me's I had seen. They were all looking at Me and smiling.

     She was there, too, the dark one. But she was small and weak, and I know if I keep kicking her she will never be strong enough to control Me again. Everyone has a little Bad in them, you see, but not everyone has to let her rule them.

     That's what I dreamed when I fell asleep. What will you dream?

Love Story

She could no longer feel her body. She could sense the cold. She could sense the fatal grasp of the freezing rain pounding her body relentlessly into the earth as if it were trying to bury her alive. She could sense her heart beating more and more slowly with every second. She could sense death, but she could not feel it.

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            The numbness had spread rapidly as the rain pounded across her back and stung her bare shoulders. The pain had not lasted long before the cool, calm hand of nothingness took her up into its palm and whispered solace into her aching skin. The sharp needles of water and the fire of frozen air had only danced across her spine for a few brief hours and then the bliss of insensitivity had enveloped her. She was not unconscious, though. Her mind still raced with confusion and her head still spun with desperation. Though her body lay as limp and lifeless and unfeeling as a rag doll tossed in the mud, her mind was still as alert as ever. Her mind, though not her body, still felt pain.

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            It was as if all the searing pain of every inch of her naked skin had all been placed into one bottle that had then been taken and poured out into her thoughts. As the physical hurt had receded like the ocean’s tide, pulling back into her brain, a hurricane grew within her mind and there reeked a havoc that cut far deeper than the freezing rain. Physically she was drowning in a puddle of mucky mire, but emotionally she was drowning in a sea of her own blood, slowly sinking below the surface of her own lifeline. She had filled her life too full. She had gotten too much of everything she wanted and it was going to kill her. The daggers in her own mind would cut her out of life’s canvas before the frost bit hard enough. Agony would kill her first, unless…

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            He promised to be there for her any time she needed him. He said that no matter how far she went or how hard she tried to get rid of him, he wouldn’t leave her. He promised that anytime she needed someone to talk to, he would be there. He promised that anytime she needed a hand to hold, he would be there. He promised that anytime anywhere for any reason, he would be there. He would always be just a whisper away, a heart-flutter and an eye-twinkle around the corner. He would never leave her. But he did. He left her all alone.

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            He could see her small, naked form lying sprawled in the muddy arms of mother earth, nearly dead, nearly hopeless, but not quite. Her heart still beat and a tiny ember of hope was still burning feebly within her chest. The rain kept coming, though, and he knew it would not be long before even that small speck would be obliterated. Not long before he would have to give her away, not because he would want to, but because he would have to. Because death would be knocking at her door and the moment she stepped though that portal, she would be gone and he could not follow her. A tear carved its way down his cheek.

            She said he was her life.

            He wanted to grab her by the waist, pull her up, and hold her tight. He wanted to pull her out of the grime she was wallowing in and clean her off, give her new clothes, and take her home to be his wife, but he couldn’t. He wanted to take her out of the freezing cold and give her a nice warm blanket. He wanted to get her out of the razor sharp rain that was mercilessly piercing her mottled skin. He wanted to save her. He wanted to make her happy, but he couldn’t. He could only watch.

            She said he was her life.

            He knew it was almost over. Her lips had turned blue beneath the web of hair that covered her face. The redness of her cheeks had begun to fade to a dull crimson, and then darken even more to a bleak purple. Her breathing, shallow and inconsistent, had shrunk from ragged gulps to an inconsistent almost imperceivable whisper. His heart ached as he watched her slowly fading into nonexistence. It burned his heart to see her so deprived. He would have done anything to save her; he already had. He had given up everything to save her, but he could do no more. He did everything he could and lost all he had, but at least he was there. He was right next to her, just like he promised. He had lost everything trying to save her, and it seemed even she was part of that price, unless…

            She said he was her life.

            Everyday he had asked her to take his ring and become his wife, but time and time again she refused. She would smile politely when he asked and sigh prettily before giving a half-hearted excuse. She wasn’t ready. He was too good for her. All the other girls would despise her for it. She would tell him “no” every time and every time the excuse would change. The only thing that always remained the same: she said he meant more to her than life. Apparently not, for she was dying and would not give him the one answer that could save her. He was not her life because he did not belong to her… not yet.

            She said he was her life.

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            They told her he left and that he was never coming back, that his love was a hoax and so was he. They told her she wasn’t worth marriage anyway, and they raped her. They stripped away her innocence, stole her purity, and left her broken in the rain and mud. They whispered doubts into her ears, left scratched on her skin and gouges in her heart. They stole her beauty and her dreams. They told her that he didn’t want her, that she didn’t need him, and that she would have more fun with them. They gave her the drugs of compromise, the sex of second best. They screamed and cried, they smiled and blushed, and they deceived her. They told her he was gone, and she believed them. They raped her. They lied.

            He saw them. He knew they would come before they ever did and he tried to protect her, but she wouldn’t listen. She did not take his ring. He saw them coming and watched as they ripped every piece of clothing from her back and railed and taunted at her ignorance. Fire burned within him as he witnessed their cruel torture. Even after they were gone in presence he could smell the breath of their putrid lies swirling around her on the ground, infesting her thoughts with bitterness. He wanted to help her, but she had to let him. She had to take his ring and be his wife before he could touch her or else he would be just like them. He couldn’t force her, but it was the only way.

            She had given up, lost faith, and determined to let go completely and plunge into the depths of her pain and die. The only thing that held her to consciousness was the hope that she was wrong, the hope that they had lied and that he would come back, a hope that would only let her down for even if he did return he would not want her anymore. He was gone, surely. How could he let her suffer if he was still there? How could he sit watching as she was raped, stabbed, frozen, and dying? How could he? With her last breath, with resignation in her heart, she allowed her eyes to flutter open. She unhinged the windows to her soul to let her spirit fly away, prepared to look into the face of the darkness and loneliness that she was drowning in, prepared to die. Instead she saw his face.

            He saw it coming before she knew what she was doing and smiled. Her tiny ember turned grey for a moment and stayed dark, preparing to leap into the ashes but in a sudden burst of desperate faith it gleamed blue and her eyes flashed open. He was smiling. He could help her now. She did not need to say what he had to hear aloud for he had read it in every fiber of her eyes. Yes. She would marry him.

            He said he wouldn’t leave her.

            She said he was her life.

            She felt her body slowly awaken as feeling crept back into her toes, fingers, chest, and head. The last thing she felt again was her lips.

            He bent down and wrapped his strong arms around her waist and picked her up. He cradled her in his arms and bent his head down toward her face. He put his lips on hers and breathed his life into her lungs.

            He never left her.

            He was her life.