my sword behind and cast my armor away in the forgiving dark waters that ran softly through the cracks reason had not filled with the logic of a dead man. Yet, I, the one that had never truly lived at all, could not drown nor feel the cold embrace of oblivion that quietly ran through my hands. I tried to breathe but was unable to fill myself with a pain that was not mine to be felt; I tried to cry but tears refused to come out for something I knew deep inside was nothing but a lie.
Then and there I wandered through the remains of the dark, the true essence of a world torn apart finding scattered shards of my will to be free, of my endless desire to leave this labyrinth behind. I heard your call, yet I was still unprepared to hold your heart; I heard you call and I decided to turn your wish in my command. I secretly held to those whispers, those eyes that wished to burn and reach the skies. I sundered the memories and the remains of my own blight to create a new world out of the ashes, a new temple of shadows to protect with newfound devotion the loveliest gift of them all.
I walked down the road and found that the path was harder to walk this time, but I did not surrender, I kept my promise to find you again and listen to your whispers one more time. Even if I were to lose it all in this desperate last try. Night covered me and I came to you at last wearing the dark and using the words of long forgotten times, reaching out for the soul that pronounced my name oh so many times in the vast landscapes of frozen tears and solid cries. I was there, standing by you, close to you, inside the walls of a world that only I was meant to see and admire. There was music, there was light like no other I had seen in the past, there before me was a world like no other I had seen in my time.
We spun the threads of destiny one at a time and inside a fortress of stone and gold I swore without words to protect your heart and walk along you even in the darkest hours of life. I ascended from my tomb and took a hammer to my hand, a promise to my heart and an oath to our lips, to never surrender, to never fall back, to be with you and hold your hand to help you and support you at all times. The flame inside burns brighter than ever now, and in its fire I forge the words to keep you by my side.
And, here I am, still in the dead of the night, hidden from it all but your lovely eyes. Here I am, for you and just for you, for your wish is my command.
Entombed
The moon is but a mirage of what should be the burning light that shone once in her eyes. The rustling leaves are all that remains of her ashen feelings and the slight whispers of the breeze is a dead reminiscence of her warm smile. Surrounded by her ghost, I surrender in the gentle embrace of her last heartbeat while I try in vain to take in my hands the last withered flowers that were left here. Small lilies, lost, perhaps forgotten in the shroud of a somber day.
My gaze only meets the small reflections that you left behind, a thousand ethereal mirrors of eternal beauty and never ending sorrow, countless flashes of memories that should have vanished with the last tears of the one who said goodbye. Yet, that day was not meant for us to see it die together. Only a fragile gasp was all that remained, of me, of you, of a universe build on promises that died before being born. A delicate private torture chamber meant to hold our hearts entwined in the soft torture of an impure love.
So much for the day, the zephyr took our words away and only one remained to endure all the pain...
Morning came and the lilies were still here, dying in my stained hands, mementos of my crime, fragile cups of blood lost amidst the light that shone upon your grave. Night stole our feelings and the last goodbye is only a frozen bit of ether into the void that we made into each other. So, I say fare thy well! Rest in the coffin that we crafted together, sleep forevermore into the chamber of somber silence that we made with the remains of our love.
The dreariest pain under the burning light of the relentless chariot of flames; what's left of us? A ghost of me waving goodbye to the last shard of a sundered love that still lingers over the place in which I buried what you meant for me.
Deeper layers of blood-red dreams
I cannot hide from sight the agony that consumes me so before you all. This sick obsession is tearing my mind, and no single thought is free from the withering influence of these insane thoughts. I have diligently hived away these unnerving emotions with no purpose at all; I think I never had any idea whatsoever what to do with so much hate.
I lust for an empty image; I desire the blackness inside the "you" that only exists in my most depraved nightmares. Run, hide, fight against the urge to be devoured by my darkness. Burn yourself escaping from the hell you put me through; these flames were made by you and I kept them glowing just for you. Now, now my dear, smell the reek left in the ashes, let me defile you with the stench of the feelings you threw in the pyre.
Soulless damsel, you have done more than enough to secure a place in the depths of torment. Your treacherous kisses will not be forgotten by those who lie dead without a grave. I, as the prime of all your lascivious cadavers, open my arms for you to rip my heart and rend my flesh, in a passionate display of mordant affection. I forget it all as soon as my eyes shut to this torture and you're nothing but an object to satisfy my crooked desires in a dream world made of disgorged rejection.
Night is over; the false reality before my eyes vanishes as the light chars my soul. I smile, though, the thrill of the kill still fills me with unholy joy; a shard of the hate is gone, a cross has left my living core. I have left a beautiful corpse in the fields of the dreadful love I spawned for you; a fading husk made of sweet deception.
Let the light die in your hands, time will pass away in the proverbial agony of unwanted eternity. I will expect night to see you in my dreams and take your blood to avenge our sin. Damnation by the road of obscure sensations, death by means of bleeding lust.
The moor
Breeze was cold as it had always been, as we had always known it was and just the way we learned to love it as it passed us by during our long walks in the moor. This time, however, it brought a different sound, a kind of saddened voice as it moved through the blades of grass and caressed the frail flowers one last time before vanishing into the hills. I used to feel how these winds took my wishes beyond the celestial sphere, to the presence of mighty spirits and eternal emperors of heavenly kingdoms, but now, even the gentlest current reeks an unseen damnation, a silent scream suffused with despair. And I can just wait, in silent contemplation, as the air freezes and the sun dies once again, creating and recreating our story in the leather-bound books I promised to fill with all the loving words we never said.
As my thoughts echoed the empty passages left in my soul, the reddish aura highlighted two dark silhouettes moving towards the giants' gravestone; a very well-known landmark where both laymen and kings met during the darkest nights to bring to life things they were to keep secret in their wildest fantasies and most debauched dreams. Legends talked about how the very last two giants were smitten down and buried there by the gods themselves after the atrocities their kin unleashed on the newly born human race. But after the time of tales and myths was over, the huge grayish stone etched with runes became just a massive slab that hid away and witnessed passions, rage and deviancy like only fabled cities that are now ashes have seen. I was brought back from the memories of the long stories that I had to learn as facts and looked again to the distant slopes the two figures traversed through. I would meet them by the stone when the moon romanced with the zenith and feeling forsaken by the distant forces that pulled the icy air around me, I decided to meet them by the place I first saw her so long ago.
The thunderous roar of the masses could be heard up to the nearby villages and the screams filled with foul words and excessive cursing completed the festival that the order of knights had summoned to honor the most effectively violent of their lot. Men and women alike shouted at the armored warriors that showcased their "honed" skills at weakened beasts and terrorized thieves holding rusty weapons in a fruitless attempt to stay alive beyond that day. Everyone rejoiced with every wound tore open; a sing
le drop of blood was enough to stir the wild cries into a single minded demon that demanded the sacrifice to be made. It was madness and bloodlust in their eyes and voices, a boundless desire to witness carnage unfold, yet there was an undisturbed soul that in silent ire watched the carnival of horrors unfold. Sitting in a large wooden throne, covered with a robe that did little to conceal the heavy plated armor underneath, a young lady looked around, seemingly having a hard time finding something worthy of her attention.
Her golden gaze fixed upon my humble self, a mere scholar clad in an old robe carrying around books filled with the dreaded recollections of the massacre that served as entertainment for peasants and nobles alike. My eyes quickly returned to the path, fleeing in fear from the fire that consumed me from within as her smile made its way straight to my cold heart. I tried to walk away, pretending I did not crave to see her once again, holding onto the memories of the worthless bloodshed I had been a witness to, but her voice brought down all the walls, tore every barrier to my own defenseless self. I stopped as she kindly asked me to, answered to her soft-spoken questions regarding my obligations, talked in hushed tones