Becoming You

Duckling in Water. Image from Pixabay.

Duckling in Water. Image from Pixabay.

There is nothing like the sweet smell of death scratching so closely to my own life. I let the feeling linger like the kiss of my lover. My temptress and fleeting desire. If I could, I would let it in, open my door to its sweet embrace. Let the embers burn me because I feel frozen. It’s not that I am suicidal, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I am tired of trying to understand when I don’t. Why do these things happen? Why is it that I can let my heart bleed onto your sleeve and the blood does not stain you but washes off of you like water to the feathers of a duck? If the purpose of life is to love, you have me at my weakest and most vulnerable. I allowed myself to crack my door and you bulldozed through it. Now I need my White Knight to come. If you kill him in my longing to be near him, I can cloak myself in his armor and learn to become him.

The legend of the White Knight isn’t about him saving me. It’s about me learning how to save myself.

GAM

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