Aug 17, 2009

Janey's secret emo-ness

Hello world, please take time to read the essay of a good friend of mine.

She stared at the coffin - cold, hard and unfeeling. Pain, suffering and fear, that's what it reeked of. The grand, brown panelling irritated her. The coffin housed death, and yet, as she watched him lie there, he looked so peaceful. His eyes were shut, his hands clasped together as though in prayer, his expression of one at peace. He looked... so serene. So fearless.

She knelt next to the coffin, glancing at the white roses placed in the coffin. Pure, beautiful and innocent, they had been placed in by well-wishes. Saying a silent prayer, she placed her rose stalk into his coffin, but not white. Red. A scarlet rose, its petals, fiery and passionate just like his spirit. And yet, it seemed so sad and lonely as she placed it among the sea of white. It seemed sad, and lonely, the only one that stood out. Just like his soul. Her heart continued to weep, and she felt a tear slide down her pale countenance. It felt cold, just like her soul. Abandoned by him, left alone.

She stared at the hourglass, trickling crimson sands of time. Sand morphed to blood, sliding down effortlessly. Drop. Drop. Drop. Surely that must have been how it was when he died? His room's floor stained with blood, ebbing away from him as his heart beat slowed. She had not been surprised to hear of his suicide, but it grieved her all the same. Her heart still ached, her emotions still quavered upon thinking... about his rare smile. Melancholic. His occasional laughter, the way he held her hand when they used to go down to the creek together. His eyes used to be a beautiful clear blue, but they were now grey. His hands, his touch, used to be so warm. His touch now, was ice cold. Her heart ached when he talked about life, his gaze always seemed so wounded and sad. She would have given anything to hear his soft voice again, comforting her, never leaving her alone.

She seemed to forget how to breathe now that he could never come back, her body becoming a husk, a shell of her former self. Her once radiant beauty morphed into melancholic beauty, muted and sad. She looked at the pristine white walls of the chapel, remembering the memories of the two of them spent there. Her eyes trailed to a letter opener, and she slid her finger over the blade. Beads of blood formed from the cut, and slid down her pale finger. She smiled mirthlessly and returned to his body's side. The cold blade slid over her arm slowly, her meaning in life lost now that he had gone.

"If I were to die tomorrow... would you join me?" he asked her before, in the same chapel. She kissed him in response, avoiding having to answer his question. As the blood flowed from her wrist, onto the white of the roses, they drowned in the sea of blood, in every drop of her love in her being. Letting the drenched letter opener fall to the floor, she felt life ebb away, just like him. Whispering three words, she closed her eyes, weeping her final tears alone.

"Wait for me."

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