“Tonight I finally felt free. Letting go of the potential I painted you with and unlacing fingers with a memory.”
I’ll let this writing be a memorial. I kept time from eating our moment, from eating a feeling I wanted to preserve. I’ve been crawling away from this place, this suffering, but tonight is the last night I’ll stay. I know I will look back only to observe time devour and feed on what I protected for so long. My heart is dangerous and contagious with the passion it exudes and now I see I gave too much of that to you. Now you’re empty, I kept your emotions on life support. Now you’re empty, I watch time devour and contort. It’s not enough to taste your potential. It’s not enough, you see. “Be with me forever, please” came from your pen, your letter, but tonight I stop holding hands with a memory. I know you’ve been intimate with loss to the highest degree, but I have a new lesion for you to taste because you’ve never lost something like me.
This was written on the night of March 18th from 11:33pm until the clock struck midnight literally with the last line. March 18th was very special to me. It contained a moment that I never wanted to forget, one I would always see. As the clock struck midnight and I finished the last line, I knew this was the last time it would hold any significance. My pen flowed its ink and drowned every memory of what was. I used to say that the moon was our only witness, but now it’s only mine. I went gently into the night because my hole that I leave is violent and quiet and that’s how it always will be. This is your last comfort you will get from me. So bury yourself in the hole that I left and suffocate your sufferings. Intimate with death is intimate with me. I’ll toss the dirt on your writhing body and you’ll count the shovels until you’re muffled. I want to hear you struggle, thirty-two, thirty-three… Lay back and let the cold filth take you because I want to watch you go. It’s time for penance and The Devil prefers a show.
