Death Waits At The Window

A story about lost love and trying to regain that love through death (or however you choose to interpret it).

The entrance way to an eternity with her becomes smaller but continues to stay open.
White sun-faded window frames reveal gates suggesting I come in.
Talking with the faded white edges of a poorly painted window bring further hallucinations.
It speaks with an intelligent tongue, but it thinks with a deceptive mind.
The pale wood shifts with it's surroundings adjusting just fine.
Paint starts to chip and glass begins to burst as if time is something it can also control.
Nausea enters my body abruptly also with deception and a voice just as cold.
It speaks without tone telling me to enter and to lose doubt so that I can return to her.
I consider the offer while accepting full-force migraines and not caring for a cure.

For the pain I have endured through a mental state fails to compare to my current physical state.

The window, now resizing itself to comfortable size, continues to shrink at an alarming rate.

It blocks my wishes for another world, a less painful time and place.
The large vacant window stops lessening and grows eyes that roll around as unproportional pieces of its face.
It sees my ungainly expressionless self, and it creates raindrops of pity falling from above.
Coming in contact with the surface of my skin, the raindrops cool my scars releasing steaming love.
The water is beyond practical for it makes my boundless journey worth the wait.

Without realizing it's cheap and rotted deception, I remain convinced that it is in fact a perfect resting place.

Without question, I make my way under the horizontal supports at a steady, careful pace.

Without a doubt, even the smallest glimpse our love would suffice.

But the empty heart of home-bound soldier is no longer waiting for you.

Author's Note

Haven't written in a while.. Just thought I would. Sorry I haven't been up-to-date with my WC account.