You preen and promenade your way ’round town, your ego ejaculating from you like a sprinkler on a rainy day; useless and no one wants it. You smile as I watch you overtly. Yet surreptitiously I study you, striving to catch you with my magnifying glass in the sizzling sunlight.
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You come back. You always do. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were a moth and I am the flame, but no. An insect doesn’t draw all that satisfying ego-boosting boot-licking luxury from a candle. You don’t burn up. You suck.
I wish you could grow up. Take responsibility for the debts you have created. But you act as though the world is your playground. You swing upon the chains that society links together and not surprisingly, it bears your weight. We are a forgiving bunch, me and the other plebes.
But you and me, we’re more personal, aren’t we. How many days and nights and weeks and months and years have we spent in each other’s company. Giving and taking is our history. I’ve plucked from you your essence and you… you have leeched my heart, drop by bloody drop, replacing just enough to keep me alive.
The light in my heart flickers each time we talk. You squint and through my eyes you see the workings of my brain – you analyse and I can actually see your “aha!” moment when you find that thing, that crack in my armor, and you’re like a vacuum. Resistance is futile.
You will never let me go. Even if you die before me I will always wonder if there is more I could have done. More I could have given. One more drop of blood; one more spark of light.
You were my love and now, now you kill me slowly. You always come back.
My eye brushes gently ‘cross your death note; the taste of it sweet upon my lips. If I thought you weren’t kidding I would surely be afraid for you. But this is you, as you are. As you have always been. The kingdom of Dramaland resides within you – it echos softly as your blood drips on the floor in a tainted half-hearted effort to end it all.
I laugh, straining not to shed tears upon your page. When I look up you are smirking at me. And now it is I who wishes my end.
***
This post is unedited and written as part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday – a fun prompt that anyone can participate in! Find the rules here: http://lindaghill.com/2015/03/20/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-2115/
badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions
It is also part of Mr. Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction challenge. This week: 100 words only. Check it out! http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/20/flash-fiction-challenge-100-words-only/
I shall lay naked
upon a bed of white snow
and watch it turn red
with the blood of my children.
All you need do is ask.
It’s a game of rat and mouse we play
You with the treacherous paw
Curling your finger so enchantingly,
“Come here, come here,”
your breath is sweet like onions
and your teeth gleam
making me wonder what tidbit,
what delicious speck of sugar
you might have for me…
I inch forward, my nose atwitching
for the scent of danger
but you’re good,
you’re so so good
that all I can sense
is your candy-coated grin
and I’m mesmerized
by that tiny finger
hypnotizing me with it’s
steady
crooked
temptation
I’m so close now I can feel your ratty stinky breath
on my whiskers
You smile,
your charm could placate a snake
and I relax
I tell you my woes
I turn over my sympathy,
like it was my firstborn
I give you
everything
all of me
all I hold dear
And then.
What do you do…?
Your ratty teeth no longer gleam
dear vermin,
your onion breath stings my eyes
Your insidious paw
with its needle-sharp claw
that has skewered everything
everything
everything I love
has a hair upon it
It is mine
from where you dug out the flesh
from my sleek mousy back
but what you don’t realize
You will choke on it all
dear rat
Your blessed rat life
where you’ve gathered so much
shitty gold
will turn to dust
And you, poor withered rat
will die
with my hair
in your throat.
Linda G. Hill 