My Ultimate Mission

Her reflection...

It was the reflection of a stiletto crashing, thrashing and begging. It was the desperation, not what it seems but the thunder of the quaking and shaking, the compression of its gratitude.

 It was devasting. The tears of her insides, the roar of her thoughts.

In.

Out.

She- I was struggling. The reflection of me was not there. She had disappeared leaving me to perish by myself. She had left but her thoughts evaded my mind at its desire. Was it a message? Was she asking for help? Her goodbye? Is she angry that I was a bit slow? Or is this what they meant that the deceased lived on in our hearts? Do they become a part of us?

Did I hurt her? Was this her subtle way of getting back at me? Did I make a mistake? Where? When? Why won't I be enough? Could it have been that time- I left without saying goodbye?

No stop but I didn't mean it. It was an accident. How could I? No, I didn't mean it, it was a mistake. How?

It hurts, heels pressed deep within at the center to my core.  Her still, warm hands slowly tightening and weakening against the narrow pulses. Journeying from her long narrow pulses to the loud, rhythmic beats symmetrically align. The raising blood pumps and beating drums threatening to deafen her abilities. She was afraid and I felt it. I could understand how it hurts and hurts but not enough. I could relate to the need for suffering only to tame one's guilt. I would never hurt enough for the way I made them feel even if that hurt was never there, to begin with.

Yet I felt angry for never being enough especially when it came to pain.

She left and the trails of her disappointment and others resided in the imprints. And so did mine. She lied that she understood the misunderstood and that I was loved.

For one's self-mate to leave is the final moment of a person's sanity. To be abandoned by yourself is a place of no returns.

She - my reflection, the person I call my mind, body and soul was correct when she said I was meant to stay in the past. It was beautiful. I was smart. I was kind. I was loved. I was wanted and desired but now I am what I was.

She was afraid of living while I was afraid of dying.

She walked through the valleys of darkness, eagerly fueling disdain and hatred. Desperately seeking to justify this deep emptiness dug in the pit of her soul.

While I clung to the threads of hope, hungry for salvation.

Which she sabotaged and killed, reminding me of everything that I was and everything that I am and I sighed.

I eventually began to hate her too.

However, as much as I hated the sight of her, I embraced her just as much. After all, if I didn't who would.