100

by Violet

The church bells ring, each chime tugging at your heartstrings, bringing you back to the present, waking you from a bad dream only to confront your worst nightmare. There’s nowhere to run this time.

A familiar song is playing in the background, a soft voice singing a beautiful melody. You recognise the tune, something she would hum absentmindedly, when she was still with you.

Was. It feels like forever ago since she sat beside you and rested her head on your shoulders, knowing full well it was a burden you couldn’t carry, but dreaming of the day you would become dependable. She breathed love and survived on wishful thinking.

She kept her promises. She would set you free, deliver you serenity at the cost of her own sanity. She didn’t even say goodbye, how cruel, to deny you even that. Remember to hate her for that too.

A closed casket, to hide the shame. She had been punished for her sincerity for far too long, and she had the scars to show for it. The final scar delivered by a lonely rose, thorns so sharp they bit deep, blood converting the red to crimson, it was the prettiest thing. She wanted you to have it. Another memento.

They think you heartless, or stoic, but you alone know the truth. Tears serve no justice to true sorrow, and what you feel is more than grief. Grief has a beginning and an end, but regret stays with you forever. You should have listened to the words she didn’t say. The casket is lowered, the evidence buried, and nothing will ever bring her back. Her smile, her warmth, her soul, lost forever, along with the memories she assured you she would forget.

The world is a cold hard place, and you turned your back on the sun. You will never hold her again, never brush her hair, never kiss her lips, never hold her hand, never feel the softness of her skin. Sometimes fools think dying for love shows sincerity. She was foolish till the end. Tell me, what did you think she meant by never?