The night that she carved his heart out and shoved the bloody mass down her throat, to insure his heart belonged to her
and her alone. So she could do what she wished with it, whether that was tear it to pieces, mix it with her own, or
slowly cut it as painfully as possible. Grieves did not care.
Grieves walked to where they had danced and sat down, digging his hands into the moist soil, gripping onto something,
anything to remember her by.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her as their bodies swayed to their own beat.
“If I told you that, I know you’d be angry”, she responded dimly, swigging a drink she did not need from the bottle of
cheap champagne.
“I could never be angry at you, you control me. I only am what you want me to be”, he said and brushed her raven hair
out of her face. Her eyes opened more with distinction and she shook her head violently.
“No, Grieves, I-”
It cut off again and Grieves sighed, wishing he knew what she said, but always managing to blank it out. He lied onto
the soil and breathed in a whispering breath of regret, which he then exhaled and released into the wind. To go…
wherever it was that loneliness and sadness goes, to a place so dark, light runs away from it. Grieves looked up into the
midnight twilight and rubbed his hands down his protruding ribs, wanting to burst. Burst because he looked past himself
and saw the void he felt so deeply. The void that made him sick with despair. He just wanted someone to touch again.
Grieves continued on in annoyance of the world cascading pestilence upon his slowly descending shoulders, slowly
feeling himself growing toward the intolerant side, but still wishing to regain what he had lost within Christine’s eyes.
Even if that meant the whole world was going down in misery with him.
To be continued.
and her alone. So she could do what she wished with it, whether that was tear it to pieces, mix it with her own, or
slowly cut it as painfully as possible. Grieves did not care.
Grieves walked to where they had danced and sat down, digging his hands into the moist soil, gripping onto something,
anything to remember her by.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her as their bodies swayed to their own beat.
“If I told you that, I know you’d be angry”, she responded dimly, swigging a drink she did not need from the bottle of
cheap champagne.
“I could never be angry at you, you control me. I only am what you want me to be”, he said and brushed her raven hair
out of her face. Her eyes opened more with distinction and she shook her head violently.
“No, Grieves, I-”
It cut off again and Grieves sighed, wishing he knew what she said, but always managing to blank it out. He lied onto
the soil and breathed in a whispering breath of regret, which he then exhaled and released into the wind. To go…
wherever it was that loneliness and sadness goes, to a place so dark, light runs away from it. Grieves looked up into the
midnight twilight and rubbed his hands down his protruding ribs, wanting to burst. Burst because he looked past himself
and saw the void he felt so deeply. The void that made him sick with despair. He just wanted someone to touch again.
Grieves continued on in annoyance of the world cascading pestilence upon his slowly descending shoulders, slowly
feeling himself growing toward the intolerant side, but still wishing to regain what he had lost within Christine’s eyes.
Even if that meant the whole world was going down in misery with him.
To be continued.