The Creeptures

An Excerpt of What is to Come

One last tendril holds my beating heart. It swings in place, decay and phlegm clouding its regularly red complexion. All other threads have been slashed and snipped, clipped and plucked. I am losing my morals and my heart. I have cut off all ties to anything that ever made me happy. There is one last thread, however, and I wonder how to cut it down. What still keeps me calm and sane? I sold every object and gave up on college, all to embrace the flames that danced across my face at the late of night. But what still kept me happy? What other moral have I not yet abandoned?
Then I saw you. You and me, forever done long ago. You're heart-shaped face and your red red lips; you with your rosy cheeks, pink and warm; you and your dimpled smile and bright white teeth; you and your freckled nose that oftentimes did so crinkle with amusement and pleasure; your short curly locks of hair, brunette and warm; but you and your eyes, the windows to the soul, that were hot chocolate-brown. They were kind and solid, except when you thought of your past and of sadness. You were always so fragile.
Until you told me off. It ended terribly, heart-ache stifling my breath, and I never again would rise again to happiness and relief.
I wished to set fire to that tendril because I knew then it was you. You kept me bounded to this earth when I no longer wished to be. It had to be done, so I swore to set fire to that thread of glistening glamor of a life once so easy to live.
You kick started me so many years ago, and now here I was, wanting you to be the one that ended me.
I will lose my heart, as unwillingly as I may be, I will lose you and that thread. My decayed and aching heart will drop soon enough at the site of you for the very last time.