Wednesday, October 26, 2016. 21:30 hrs.
In the midst of midterms, and homework, and Billy Bob Jones.
Lacrimosa‘s taunting deed
Sits primly in its stark-white, ink-less corner.
It blossomed within her, slow, and gentle, a nearly beautiful thing. It was kind, willing to take its time, until the tremors that rocked her fingers, and the battered phone in her hand, had spread to her arms. She was afraid. Terrified, really, with the way she could feel it eating its way from within her. What was this thing that locked her limbs in place, and crawled through her chest, waiting for the tears to fall? Had it known? Was it familiar with the notion that she had held dear to; cultivated with near manic precision, and sharp determination? She wasn’t sure. She, herself, was not specially familiar with this particular sentiment, and were it not for Lacrimosa, biting coldly at her ears, it would soon be forgotten.
When the walls of indifference slip away for a moment,
There is terror in my soul,
A fear so poignant, and suffocating it staggers me;
Making the darkness of my sins’ meanings,
Pale virginally against the riptide of the fear,
The terror that corrodes my thought and gesture.
And under the weight of it all, I am so naked,
Unable to avoid the image of you;
You not wanting me;
Closing doors upon me;
The doors of your heart,
Windows of your eyes.
And it is under this spear of petrification
that my body freezes,
Skin and bones shattering
as teeth chatter painfully in silence;
The silence of your words,
And the deafness of your eyes;
Even as your ears are blind to my love,
and to my sorrow.
Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron
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