death is a four letter word

i do not have a crystal ball. there are no tarot cards disguised beneath the pale silk scarves which lay unremembered in the bottom of pine-scented drawers. no books of witchcraft or sorcery line the whitewashed shelves of the boards by the bright open window and i do not seek the high whisper of magic in the voice of psychics or mages. yet i know bone-deep the future.

perhaps this is why the hunger for tragedy so chases the traffic of my veins, always one step behind my sunny disposition. it is there, though few see it and none understand. i seek sadness. like the wilted petals of summer-soaked gardens i find peace in the quiet of death. words which break and drown in the tears of their reader are my solace and i weep in the beauty of faded ink, of prose and poetry and script fit to line the most magnificent of coffins.

for that is where he shall be. my love, my heart, my breath. nine years past i stood in the shadow of fifteen candles and when i wished i wished that my future may not be so. i clenched my fist to the blast of the hot north wind which extinguished the twinkling orange teardrops in my stead and so i knew there was no hope. still the silver casket reigned in my dreams.

and maybe that is why i have never really been in love. i fear it for i know it shall be as fleeting as the midsummer night and painful as ten million pricks beneath my skin. but i will fall one day. one day when pink gumdrops tickle sour on my tongue and the sun catches the blades of grass just right i will give up my soul while he laughs and brushes his mouth against mine and is never the wiser. in that moment i will not think of the things he will miss, how he will never have grey hair, or caress the golden head of his grandchild; he will never stop to face his reflection and count the wrinkles of life around his eyes. but he will not see the falter of my smile and i will kiss him while he twists my heart around his so that when death comes, endlessly will i whisper to the pieces left behind, pieces wound too tight to ever be found by the darkest and most wicked of angels.