The Art of Killing You

A sad Flute... The Evil in me bore a Fruit

All along, it was a disease. It was a lesser life full of heartaches and displease. It was always dark, even after the dawn. It never seized to be cold and I would cry alone.

I had met this artist, this lost soul I felt. But I didn't want to forget how his eyes made my heart melt. How he burned in his own aura and a conscious half lost. How daily he haunted my dreams like a ghost.

For a moment, I felt I had something to live for. I hated life but for a moment I wanted more... of those moments with him.

Telling my story, showing him that side of me, I wanted to do that all over again. I wanted to let him in, hopefully, his silent gaze would fix my pain. How he looked at me with eyes full of dare. With the softness of violence and care.

I sat in class, sinking in the inner workings of my mind.

My eyes were open but I couldn't see, was too busy seeing what I couldn't, feeling what I shouldn't and wishing what I wouldn't.

A voice shook me, the old man who taught. He said words that would leave me with unease for the rest of the day.

"Ian Dumisani will be your new Lecturer. He will grace our prestigious school with his tutelage and show you the way of art. Be on your best behaviour".

'What?'

Like a fire to the rain, I die out.

As I give myself to the pain, I forget what it was all about.

All I know is I am addicted to the sorrow and I welcome every time it comes.

After a while, I remember why I am hurting in secrecy. I met Ian first and the Idea of sharing his genius brings me jealousy.

The moon stared at me in wonder, I stared back. With the stars around it, like a beautiful scar that bore a beautiful mark. I thought about how obsessive I was and I didn't care. Let life tempt me with Ian if it so dares.

I would fight for a stranger if I had to fight. With that thought, my heart calmed and I kissed the dusk goodnight. 

-Goodnight.