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Letter to Eurydice

loved, beautiful, dead, lover

It has been one year since I left. One year since pride took hold of my heart, and made me see what wasn’t there; made me blind to what was. The layer that is vanity that surrounds my heart has finally begun to thaw, and I now realize that my one grave mistake may haunt me until the end of time. Spokes of the hardest metal and the sharpest of steel bite into my conscience as I begin to feel the effects of my darkest deed. I ask myself, what have I done? What in heaven’s name made me do this one thing so dark and unthinkable that even now, one year later, standing bathed in sunlight of the brightest gold, I still feel darkness enveloping me? You played no part in this, although I made you think so. I cringe to recall now how manipulative and deceiving I was back then. How innocent you were, how you played right into my trap, and I caught you in it. How wide-eyed you were; completely caught off guard. And then, how I saw, slowly, with evil satisfaction, the light disappear from your eyes, and you were lost from me forever.

I buried you in my heart, and you were lost in the random graveyard of memories we each have and try to forget. I was pleased then. I was so powerful at that time, and you were so weak. You had lost a battle I had planned from the beginning, a war you never knew was coming.

The sunlight ripples on my fingers. Delicate, slender fingers, which caressed you in the darkest corners of the night. Fingers that knew you, fingers that loved you. Fingers that uncovered secrets between us that we knew were forbidden, but the savoir of its fruit was much enjoyed between us. I remember your face. Your striking silhouette bathed in the devil’s moonlight. Your slender frame complimenting mine as we entwined our souls together in eternity.

You were perfect, and you loved me.

I had never given it a second thought until now. Now that the memories have come creeping back like nightcrawlers from the grave to tease and torture me so. Elements that reek of your essence surround me and remind me of a ghastly deed I know there is no turning back to.

Time. It is something we each strive to conquer, and fall gasping in the process. I could have taken you back, when you were still hurting, blindly groping your way in the dark. I could have taken your hand and led you into my embrace. You would have forgiven all then; you would have ascertained it an act of insanity and buried it. So full of ego was I. Now it is I that am found wanting. You have found your way out of the nightmare; such is the transit between the sleeping realm and awakening to find yourself safe in a warm bed. It was a bad dream after all.

So you have found your way into the sun. The vanguards of heaven took a hold of you, took pity on your face, so youthful in appearance, and comforted you with the finest of linen. You were mournful at first, but then, love once again swelled in your heart, and all evil things were forgotten. True lovers will always love again. You ceased to remember all that had passed. You ceased to remember past deeds. You ceased to remember me.

The sun is warm, but I feel not is love. I no longer deserve love, in any form. Lovers cross my pass, and I must lower my eyes. It is a dance I can no longer follow. The brook laughs and plays a happy tune, but I am not akin to its mirth. I am destined to follow a more lonely, desolate path. I am unseen by the world. Those that I hold dear to me will not see me in this state. I am better off a wraith of this world, for no other world will have me.

I look up into the sun and I can see you. You are looking down on me, but though my heart cries with joy at the thought of it, I know it in the deepest chasm of my heart; you cannot see me. You were blind to me the day they led you out of the forest, the day your heart was closed to all things evil. It is a futile thought, issuing from a heart that has beat in sorrow the day you closed your eyes on me.

A light breeze scatters leaves on the path, rearranging them as a random painter would splatters of acrylic on his canvas. It is beautiful to behold. You are, and have always been, beautiful to behold, even more so now. But we always crave for the unattainable. I cringe; what is now unattainable was once mine. I continue my journey to the ends of the earth. I want to fall of its edge. I am crying, but no one notices. The warmth of the air does not comfort me. It is time for me to move on. Heavy steps lead me onwards, outwards, to a realm unknown. I will brave it a solitary traveler, for I know, that of all the sadness there is in the world, none can compare with the misery that lies in my once human heart, of being dead to you, as you once were to me.
Published: 2008-01-31
Author: Ella Wahab

About the author or the publisher
I've been told I can write well and would like to put myself to the test and found out what I'm made of!
defectedarchitect.blogspot.com

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