The sun settled behind a thick mass of clouds, casting a pink hue over the lush trees lining the horizon. The garbed branches swayed, the rustling of leaves and a gentle swoosh filling the air, a heaviness weighing deep in your chest with every fraught intake.
Absentmindedly, your fingers writhed, the motions subtle as they curled around the cluster of fine, pale stems in your hands. The thin coat of black polish adorning your nails caught in the light with a sparkle, chipped from the hours of nervous peeling you had frittered away your time with.
You took slow steps, walking with a zombified vigor so unlike yourself. Tension was palpable in your shoulders, your unkempt hair falling around them.
Exhaustion exuded through your eyes, from the red streaks ribboning the foggy whites to the puce patches that rested beneath them. The once luminous greyish blue of your irises had dwindled to a glum mud, obscured by the stray strands gliding over your face.
Glittering city lights peered past the trees, dreary shadows accenting your features. The hum of cars echoed from the distance, melding with the rhythmic patter of your leather boots' hard soles, black laces threading up to the knotted bows just below your knees.
Delicate petals drifted from the flowers you clasped, sizzling against the hot pavement, a spoor of cinders trailing behind you.
Your gaze wandered to the lengthy fence walling the turf around the corner up ahead, entangled with shrubs, your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. Reaching the brooding gates, you sucked in a quivering breath and strolled past them.
You weaved through the gravestones dotting the hushed grounds, hearing only the faint murmurs of mourners, the croaking of frogs in the trees, and crickets chirping from the grass that grazed your ankles.
Had you lost interest in casting your fingers over the white clovers—the blossoms' soft, soothing touch? Perhaps it was only because your hands were occupied, but I couldn't help but notice you hadn't even paused to breathe in your roses' sweet yet earthy fragrance, either.
Maybe you were just feeling a little off today, that's all.
The sparse light poles flickered on as the sun departed, the moon taking form—a thin, glassy sliver affixed to the sky. Smoky clouds tumbled in, further shading the somber scene you ventured through, your eyes downcast.
You knelt down next to a particular tombstone, a narrow post looming over it from a patch of lofty grass, a horde of moths gathering by the bulb's warm glow. You'd come here countless times before. Gingerly, you laid the flowers on the dirt before it.
Collapsed in the soil, your sights puttered to the dandelions strewed around the grave. You leant forward to pluck a dead one, a prick of cold sap against your fingertips, hoisting it up and twirling it in the pulsing light.
The white fuzz gleamed, wafting leisurely from one side to the other and back again. Your eyes were half-lidded and dull as you watched it. At a feeble rumble of thunder, you tilted your head back with your lips pursed and blew the feathery wisps to be carried away in the wind.
It started to drizzle just as you leered at the name engraved on the headstone, moss caking it. With tears welling up, your gaze blurred, and you flicked the dandelion's bare stalk into the grass. Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled sharply, discerning the tiny drops sprinkling your loose black and white striped sweater. The makeup daubed around your eyes streaked down your cheeks, your tears marrying with the rain.
With the mugginess fuddling the air alloyed with the ever-bolstering rain, you felt suffocated, like a tight squeeze closing around your throat. Your face was red and puffy, your nose stuffed up, and your shoulders quaked.
I would've reached out to wipe away all of your tears if I only could. I hoped you still remembered my touch, gingerly caressing your velvety cheek and whispering words of comfort. And if you roused those memories, would you feel it? Could you imagine it?
The sky poured, welding your locks to your skin. Your fingers dug into the drenched cotton draped over your thighs, and you wept from within the pool of mire growing around you.
Anguish was etched into your expression, sopping, and your chin smeared with ooze. It dragged on forever until your cries broke into strangled chokes. Gasping sharply, you coughed, water pricking your lungs.
You let out a scream, grip tightening, the fabric threatening to rip. Raw emotion resonated through your voice—a swirl of anger and sorrow that had gnawed at you for so long. The broken call was lost in the thunder, the night ablaze with flares of lightning barring the sky.
I'd fight away all of your fears if I only could, but the monsters haunting you were not mine to tame this time. Maybe you could breathe in that spark that'd once burned within me and stave them off yourself. And if not today, eventually.
With your head dipped toward the floor, rain just shy of cuffing your eyes, your palms smushed into the marshy soil. Your rapid breathing slowly stabled, a moment or two passing.
Gaze burning, you mustered the courage to rise to your feet, your head to remain hung low. The rain eased to a light dribble. You spared one final glance down at the grave, the roses you'd neatly laid upon it now drowning in a murky puddle.
Penetrated like a sponge, your drooping sweater cohered to your legs with every step you took as you paced clumsily to the gates. Striding onto the sidewalk, you left a trail of grubby prints behind you.
With a defeated sigh, you pried your gaze from the cemetery for the last time. I wish you saw me as I shadowed you. Maybe if you'd tried, you could've felt it. Maybe you could've felt as I snaked around you—a tender embrace to ease the ache in your heart, mumbling sweetly against your ear, my cool breath contrasting the warmth in the air.
I beckoned the clouds to disperse and the rain to cease. I was the gentle, towelling gust sweeping through your ravenette hair. I was all around you; I've never left you. I've held your hand through all of these years.
You still have all of me. Forever and always.
