By request.
Don’t you dare play coy.
A choice.
There’s always a choice, isn’t there?
Every second that passes.
Every breath you clasp onto.
Are they filled with regret? Do you ask yourself if it was worth it?
You don’t have to answer that. I know, I know. It’s a struggle now, isn’t it? Thinking, I mean. When oxygen grows scarce, thoughts scatter. It’s the same regardless of who you are.
Everything is so clear at first. It’s like glancing through a dew drop on a leaf. Everything whole but fragile.
Then the leaf shakes, and your perfect little world is gone. It’s slid down into the dark thorns of the bush. Maybe you linger another moment, perhaps you try to find another drop.
You make a choice.
One to ignore why the leaf shook at all, one that focuses on that singular perfect moment.
Look at me.
Look at me. I want to see your eyes. Even as you quiver. Even as your pupils grow wide, the blood vessels at their edges grow taught.
Show me a single perfect moment. Give me that much, if nothing else.
I’m going to tell you a story. One to help the long dark come all the quicker. It won’t take long, don’t worry. But do, with those last few breaths of yours, tell me if it sounds familiar.
There once was a man. A very normal kind of man. And as all normal men, he sought to change this post haste with nary a thought to consequence. He searched high and low for a means. Under the rocks, over the hills.
But it was at the bottom of a tankard he found it at last. At the pub he frequented, when the glowering voices of the crowd grew few and whispered. He heard tales of what lie just beyond the edge of the woods. Past those stones and meager rises was she. As all normal men far too eager for their own good, this one sought to tame the wild lady of the woods. One rumored to be so much more than most could handle.
So he said his goodbyes to the drunkards, and set for home right away. He stowed himself away in his bed and drank deep into that last moment of peace. Of being normal, if only for one more night. The next morning, he began to talk himself down. Only in his head of course. It would only be a small trek, a way to kill the hours of mediocrity piling atop him so heavily. He packed what few scant supplies he had. He grabbed the largest, sharpest thing he could find. He told himself it was for the bush and smirked at it’s true purpose.
If there was no lady, there certainly would be a beast. He so needed new boots. With weapon and bread stowed, he set off on his fun little jaunt.
Only the woods were so much darker than he’d anticipated. So full and brimming with life. This man-this fool-in his haste forgot to pack a compass. A map. So the moment he found a clearing, quiet and still of all the bugs and bird song?
He sat upon a rock. With his eyes set on a singular leaf, on a singular drop. He dared to center his entire world within this drop.
Tell me love-and tell me true-it does sound familiar doesn’t it?
I never tire of telling that story.
Much more, living it.
Shhhhhh. You’ve confirmed enough for me. Keep those eyes up. Stay focused. I want you to do one last thing for me, alright?
I want you to breathe.
Breathe deep against my coils as every scale caresses you all the more. Imbibe these moments, this glory finally yours. Be not afraid as our lips meet, as warmth floods through every vein. Press against me as I do you. Let us melt in the sunlight until it ceases-or you do. Clutch to me as you slide ever deeper within.
But don’t look away. Not even for a moment.
Lest the world shake, and I lose you for good.
Hush now. Words take so much from your lungs, don’t they? So futile are they compared to action.
After all.
Normal men talk.
You, love?
You’re anything but normal, aren’t you?