Primary_Active_4719

Primary_Active_4719 t1_ity06hr wrote

Reply to [WP] You are a master of of the mind palace technique, so much that you can entertain yourself for hours just spending time in the fictional place you have created inside your head. One day, while roaming around in your palace, you're shocked to find signs of a break-in. by Idionfow

Paralyzed as always, my full moon never set, nor does it cease to sing to the heart a melody of an unknown yet unmistakable affection. I could've given myself more; stars, meteorites, the endlessness of the sky we've chosen to write out of our lives for shallow comforts, but if all I was going to have was her majesty in that swelling celestial glow, then I was going to be able to nearly perfect it someday. However, tonight, was this an eclipse?

Making rent every month, punctuality, dishwashing; these weren't things I considered among what I do for a living. They only provided my body with tangible comforts, and they left the mind too weary to hear the sorrowful melody of a dying fire; cold in the absence of the warmth of the heart. This is what I did for a living, building my palace; anything to feed the flames, yet lately they have been ravaging the forests of my solitude as if reaching upwards and outwards, towards her; fragmenting my peace of mind, playing with fire.

At first, amidst the persuading pattern of exhaustion, inebriation, empty delights, and then darkness in which my heart was taunted every night, her voice rang, like bells guiding townsfolk to salvation every Sabbath, and her eyes, North Stars for those lost at sea. That moment is frozen forever somewhere, a bustling farmer's market under the mountains of blinding steel and glass; her yellow apple dress, flowing in the winds of her almond hair. Perhaps if I hadn't had her same question, if we both hadn't been lost, the gales of my loneliness would have surely tossed my heart under the merciless tides of eternity. With her I was lost, and she was my ocean, and the moon hid the horizons on all sides with a blinding passion. Not my moon, though, not her majesty, for she rested as my heart was already overflowing with light. Like my father once said, "Once you have your temple in your mind, you can leave it behind if love would call you to his."

As all visitors in the temple of love, we had overstayed our welcome. Ripped away like trespassers in the night, the authorities had cast judgement at dawn.

I lie in the light of my moon, motionless, calm, happy, betrayed as it begins to dim. No, it was not dimming, it was being erased swallowed whole by the faceless devil of restless souls. The last of my heart, flickering like an injured minnow in the eyes of the hungry trout. Yet, why was this my moon? Where was my ocean? The inevitable set its gaze upon my being and in the darkness, I felt its grip restricting my breath. As my eyes slowly open with an unknown primal intent, and where my moon once was, a face appeared. Haloed by operating table lights, distorted helplessly and spilling tears like rain over me, it produced a voice. A man tortured by his own soul, my neighbor called down the curtains over me with a final song. I could only listen. "I'm so fuckin sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry. I didn't know what was happening."

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