HEAVENLY CORRUPTION

PROMETHEUS

SCENE I: A heavenly night repeats itself. A man devotes his life to a woman who should have died.

He pours cherry wine generously, serving me a sugary, too-sweet apology when the glass overflows. We laugh as the red drips through my fingers, though it feels like an omen. Life goes on. I gaze out the window, towards the mountains.

SCENE II: The woman finds bitter satisfaction in making herself disappear in any room. She wonders if she makes metaphors out of mistakes to make the time pass. She wonders if she is happiest when she is barely there.

I smile absently as palms find mine, as the music of lovers arguing ignites the room. My skin hums in the glow, my jealousy threatening to blister. I resist the urge to ruin what reminds me of what I lost. Sip my drink.

SCENE III: The woman devotes her unexpected days to sending letters out to sea. The woman devotes her thoughts to what cannot be changed.

Your years left a burn I will always ache from; one does not hold the sun in their hands and escape without missing its memory. They kiss across the table, sunflowers facing one another. I think of all the ways I could have been better. Life goes on.

SCENE IV: A man gives his heart to a woman who misplaced hers. He questions if it was his to have anyway, what with her name written along its seams. He wonders if it will be enough.

He drapes his jacket across my shoulders, extending me warmth even as he shivers. I reach to give it back, but he only wraps it tighter around me. He says he was never meant to keep it, that it was always meant for me. He refills my empty glass and I wonder if I am the cold that wounds him. Life goes on.

Thighs brush thighs and arms tangle together as stories are told louder, fiercer, coarser. Wine finds the floor, complicated songs find their lyrics. I pretend to be human; for a moment, I dance barefoot across the sticky hardwood. Perhaps I know how to do something more than run, after all.

When he meets my eyes and tells me it's good to hear me sing again, I almost forget that I buried my voice in those mountains. Life goes on. I wonder if I deserve it.

SCENE V: The woman pulls his jacket tighter around her shoulders before a new song begins. She dedicates every word to him.

eve's note: hi angels, i missed you. this one is my own take on prometheus's myth; instead of a forced torture, this one is more about the kind we sometimes inflict on ourselves. the guilt that comes with surviving, with finding warmth and love from other people years later. i'm still learning how to stop eating myself alive each day. with any luck, you won't relate to this one. love you.