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Description
Cold.  That’s how I’d remembered it.  That sort of cold that sneaks up on the city as it sleeps, but is gone by 4:30 or 5:00.  I could taste the blood in my mouth.  I felt it drying; crusty on my chin.  I was thinking that whatever happens now- will change everything.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  The sweat was cold on my brow, as I stood there.  Ropes eating into my wrists.  And I looked up, and let out a sigh.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
No reply.
I couldn’t see my watch, but the sight of my breath told me I was still alive.  For now.
Somewhere a dog was barking through a car window.
And it’s freezing rain out here.  This is what makes us.  It all started out innocent enough.  Back before everyday was that almost sepia yellow colour of a 40s photograph.  And I remember her.

There was something classy about her, but I should say: I was taken aback.  Underneath it all, she had… moxie.  There was that never-say-die attitude she hid so well.  But her eyes gave her away.  As deep as the wharfs of my childhood at high-tide, and a piercing, rich, brown colour so rich and thick, piercing through any man that dare cross her. Of course, that responsibility fell squarely on me, being the last…  The rest of her was her best kept secret.  Her big black lie.  Her big yellow lie.  Simple and elegant.  Brown curls, that came to rest just past her shoulder blades.  Not much else to say, because otherwise, she was the same as every other girl.  But her eyes… lit up in the night light when we met in the park.

Her hand grazed my own, and the hairs on my arm stood at attention.  A shiver went through me, and I saw my breath in the air.  Strange, because it was a stifling July eve, and my hands were damp with sweat.  Goosebumps dotted my neck, and I felt innocence.  I knew she was smiling as she walked away.
And that was how we met.
And I can’t help but wonder how it ever ended up here.

But that’s the way things are, I suppose.
My head feels like splitting and I can’t recall why.  Peculiar.
So the next time in the park, I was nervous as ever.  Again she brushed by me, but I could smell the fragrance on her.  Scent is not the strongest of my senses. It’s like a step up from being tone-deaf, except for the nose.  But I knew there were roses in there somewhere, and, being me, I assumed that meant something.  A sign.  Foolish, I know, naïve even.  This time, as she walked away, we shared that same smile she wore the last time we parted.  And I went home with a skip in my step.  A smile in my head.

By our third meeting,
She had smiled as we passed,
Although she shied away and turned her head.
By the sixth, she had no need.
One shy little smile told me everything,
Everything her eyes hadn’t already.

     On our seventh meeting, I had brought a rose.  Something to do with the sign I felt from her fragrance.  The flower shook behind my back as I anxiously waited for her to pass by, and as I slipped it into her hand, I heard her gasp.
And I stood there.  Utterly entropic, scared shitless, but captivated.

And with a Grace far superior to my own, she slipped her other hand into my own.
“Let’s go for a walk.” She said, with her trademark smile and elegance.
“Let’s,” I managed to get through.

And we walked.
(and it was peaceful).

By the end, we ended up at that place where our paths had frequently crossed, and I took her by the hand and proceeded to lay in the tall grass.  And she lay the rose on top of her chest.  I watched it rise and fall, as the tide would if we ever ventured out to meet it.

We stayed there forever.  Forever, until it ended.  Nothing on Earth will last forever.  Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.  And she’s crying.  Her world is falling apart.  And that meant that mine was too.  I was completely dependant.

She weeps because she doesn’t understand the evil around her, the evil possessed by this world.  This world possessed by evil.  And I’m her security blanket.  And I don’t understand the good possessed by this world.  This world possessed by good.  I keep her warm, as those eyes gloss over for the final time, and she fixes her hair.  And it’s a single kiss, without a word, and she’s gone.  And I’m alone.

So how did I end up here?
I’m not quite sure.
But movie stars seem to like reminiscing
in the last moments of their lives.
Maybe I just like watching movie stars
reminiscing in the last moment of their lives.
So I reminisce. And the story goes on…

I walked by our familiar spot, everyday for two weeks.  No sign of her.  The days grew yellower, more bleak.  She just needs time to think, I lied to my self.  I knew I’d never see her again.  Such things just never happen twice. Never happen twice, such things.  I knew I’d never see her again.

(but I was wrong)

I could see her walk, one Wednesday in September, down the familiar sidewalk.  The sky, a pale yellow behind her.  The tone and colour of everything around us had been dimmed down.  Everything was nicotine stained, like the jagged fingernails of someone who’s smoked all her life, you know because you can see it in her yellow eyes.

She came closer, and I was smelling roses.  Our hands grazed in the usual, playful manner.  And I turned around expecting, to see her smiling after doing the same.  But she just kept walking.

I remember how long I ran that day.  I slouched down against my bed, and hung my head.  I held my hair up against my forehead, and gritted my teeth.  Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.  All I could feel was the breath leave my chest.  I struggled to inhale, and my chest started to turn blue-  At least it wasn’t yellow.

What the hell was going on?

I don't know, I would never know.  If you can picture me, red bloodshot eyes, blue skin, starved of oxygen, surrounded by that nicotine yellow, I pity you.  I hadn’t eaten since I’d given her the rose.  You could see my ribs, peeking at you through my chest, but it was of no concern to me.  And I just sat there.
There was no music to anything anymore.
I know how Beethoven must’ve felt.
At least he could see more than yellow.

After what seemed like forever, I drew another breath.  Bitter in my dry mouth, the air felt…neither good nor bad.  I couldn’t feel it really.  The obscenity of it all.  The indecency.  We ought to be ashamed.

  And my pulse steadied. Though no colour had come back, the music poured in as I made up my mind to try one last time tomorrow.

I went over the moment in my head again and again.  I had picked her another rose.  This one with a decidedly longer stem.  I was nervous.  My fingers tapped, and my feet moved, but I was still a day away.

As nights will do at pivotal times in one’s life, the night was no exception, and seemed to drag on forever.  Nothing on Earth will last forever.  Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.  And the when sun rose, I was still wide awake.  And I went to catch some air in the park.

I saw a figure in the distance, and decided that had to be her.  The figured walked into a silhouette, and grew with each step.  She drew near and I recognized the brown curls.  She walked closer, and I was smelling roses again… but the smell had faded.  The roses had died.  And I let out a cry when she came close enough for me to see her eyes.

So here I am.  They sent me here yesterday.  It’s April, and still bitter cold.  The conditioning, so intense.  The scrubbing so complete.  I still can’t recall anything.  How does it fit together?  How can I know where to go, if I don’t know where I came from?  I’m so lost…and all I can remember are a pair of eyes.  Staring at me, in the yellow that had been September.  And I know there is nowhere to go, but jump.  I have ropes around my wrist, digging, cutting, lacerating- but they lead nowhere.  They serve no purpose.  And in the end, am I any different?  All I can know, is that I knew someone once, and all I know about her were those eyes…staring at me in September.  Forever yellow.

Description
Cold.  That’s how I’d remembered it.  That sort of cold that sneaks up on the city as it sleeps, but is gone by 4:30 or 5:00.  I could taste the blood in my mouth.  I felt it drying; crusty on my chin.  I was thinking that whatever happens now- will change everything.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  The sweat was cold on my brow, as I stood there.  Ropes eating into my wrists.  And I looked up, and let out a sigh.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
No reply.
I couldn’t see my watch, but the sight of my breath told me I was still alive.  For now.
Somewhere a dog was barking through a car window.
And it’s freezing rain out here.  This is what makes us.  It all started out innocent enough.  Back before everyday was that almost sepia yellow colour of a 40s photograph.  And I remember her.

There was something classy about her, but I should say: I was taken aback.  Underneath it all, she had… moxie.  There was that never-say-die attitude she hid so well.  But her eyes gave her away.  As deep as the wharfs of my childhood at high-tide, and a piercing, rich, brown colour so rich and thick, piercing through any man that dare cross her. Of course, that responsibility fell squarely on me, being the last…  The rest of her was her best kept secret.  Her big black lie.  Her big yellow lie.  Simple and elegant.  Brown curls, that came to rest just past her shoulder blades.  Not much else to say, because otherwise, she was the same as every other girl.  But her eyes… lit up in the night light when we met in the park.

Her hand grazed my own, and the hairs on my arm stood at attention.  A shiver went through me, and I saw my breath in the air.  Strange, because it was a stifling July eve, and my hands were damp with sweat.  Goosebumps dotted my neck, and I felt innocence.  I knew she was smiling as she walked away.
And that was how we met.
And I can’t help but wonder how it ever ended up here.

But that’s the way things are, I suppose.
My head feels like splitting and I can’t recall why.  Peculiar.
So the next time in the park, I was nervous as ever.  Again she brushed by me, but I could smell the fragrance on her.  Scent is not the strongest of my senses. It’s like a step up from being tone-deaf, except for the nose.  But I knew there were roses in there somewhere, and, being me, I assumed that meant something.  A sign.  Foolish, I know, naïve even.  This time, as she walked away, we shared that same smile she wore the last time we parted.  And I went home with a skip in my step.  A smile in my head.

By our third meeting,
She had smiled as we passed,
Although she shied away and turned her head.
By the sixth, she had no need.
One shy little smile told me everything,
Everything her eyes hadn’t already.

     On our seventh meeting, I had brought a rose.  Something to do with the sign I felt from her fragrance.  The flower shook behind my back as I anxiously waited for her to pass by, and as I slipped it into her hand, I heard her gasp.
And I stood there.  Utterly entropic, scared shitless, but captivated.

And with a Grace far superior to my own, she slipped her other hand into my own.
“Let’s go for a walk.” She said, with her trademark smile and elegance.
“Let’s,” I managed to get through.

And we walked.
(and it was peaceful).

By the end, we ended up at that place where our paths had frequently crossed, and I took her by the hand and proceeded to lay in the tall grass.  And she lay the rose on top of her chest.  I watched it rise and fall, as the tide would if we ever ventured out to meet it.

We stayed there forever.  Forever, until it ended.  Nothing on Earth will last forever.  Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.  And she’s crying.  Her world is falling apart.  And that meant that mine was too.  I was completely dependant.

She weeps because she doesn’t understand the evil around her, the evil possessed by this world.  This world possessed by evil.  And I’m her security blanket.  And I don’t understand the good possessed by this world.  This world possessed by good.  I keep her warm, as those eyes gloss over for the final time, and she fixes her hair.  And it’s a single kiss, without a word, and she’s gone.  And I’m alone.

So how did I end up here?
I’m not quite sure.
But movie stars seem to like reminiscing
in the last moments of their lives.
Maybe I just like watching movie stars
reminiscing in the last moment of their lives.
So I reminisce. And the story goes on…

I walked by our familiar spot, everyday for two weeks.  No sign of her.  The days grew yellower, more bleak.  She just needs time to think, I lied to my self.  I knew I’d never see her again.  Such things just never happen twice. Never happen twice, such things.  I knew I’d never see her again.

(but I was wrong)

I could see her walk, one Wednesday in September, down the familiar sidewalk.  The sky, a pale yellow behind her.  The tone and colour of everything around us had been dimmed down.  Everything was nicotine stained, like the jagged fingernails of someone who’s smoked all her life, you know because you can see it in her yellow eyes.

She came closer, and I was smelling roses.  Our hands grazed in the usual, playful manner.  And I turned around expecting, to see her smiling after doing the same.  But she just kept walking.

I remember how long I ran that day.  I slouched down against my bed, and hung my head.  I held my hair up against my forehead, and gritted my teeth.  Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.  All I could feel was the breath leave my chest.  I struggled to inhale, and my chest started to turn blue-  At least it wasn’t yellow.

What the hell was going on?

I don't know, I would never know.  If you can picture me, red bloodshot eyes, blue skin, starved of oxygen, surrounded by that nicotine yellow, I pity you.  I hadn’t eaten since I’d given her the rose.  You could see my ribs, peeking at you through my chest, but it was of no concern to me.  And I just sat there.
There was no music to anything anymore.
I know how Beethoven must’ve felt.
At least he could see more than yellow.

After what seemed like forever, I drew another breath.  Bitter in my dry mouth, the air felt…neither good nor bad.  I couldn’t feel it really.  The obscenity of it all.  The indecency.  We ought to be ashamed.

  And my pulse steadied. Though no colour had come back, the music poured in as I made up my mind to try one last time tomorrow.

I went over the moment in my head again and again.  I had picked her another rose.  This one with a decidedly longer stem.  I was nervous.  My fingers tapped, and my feet moved, but I was still a day away.

As nights will do at pivotal times in one’s life, the night was no exception, and seemed to drag on forever.  Nothing on Earth will last forever.  Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.  And the when sun rose, I was still wide awake.  And I went to catch some air in the park.

I saw a figure in the distance, and decided that had to be her.  The figured walked into a silhouette, and grew with each step.  She drew near and I recognized the brown curls.  She walked closer, and I was smelling roses again… but the smell had faded.  The roses had died.  And I let out a cry when she came close enough for me to see her eyes.

So here I am.  They sent me here yesterday.  It’s April, and still bitter cold.  The conditioning, so intense.  The scrubbing so complete.  I still can’t recall anything.  How does it fit together?  How can I know where to go, if I don’t know where I came from?  I’m so lost…and all I can remember are a pair of eyes.  Staring at me, in the yellow that had been September.  And I know there is nowhere to go, but jump.  I have ropes around my wrist, digging, cutting, lacerating- but they lead nowhere.  They serve no purpose.  And in the end, am I any different?  All I can know, is that I knew someone once, and all I know about her were those eyes…staring at me in September.  Forever yellow.