Subjects
Again, she stands there: tear strewn, fists clenched, nails bloodied. Anger, crashed into fear, despair.
Our passion for our ruin - consuming us, in all ways.
But that wasn’t what we had seen or meant.
We see that in this moment, like so many moments forgotten; lost in a way that only we, and those like us, can know.
We see it through all that’s left of us that we can spare and remember, with a bitterness we seek so endlessly to place.
Sometimes we’d scorn others' black, white, occasional grey. Never knowing our bursting pleasure. We were a crystal in the sun.
We were superior in those moments.
The bliss, we took as affirmation of our love. But was it ever? Was the feeling just for us?
And our Friend, our Assassin, our King - was he treacherous, truly? Did we not invite him in, to touch everything we had?
(2014)
