Work Text:
It is the cold drizzly night I suppose. Quite the juxtaposition of what is supposedly a humid sweltering feel.
The lack of balance instead overwhelmed by extremities.
I feel around for the warmth — was there one. I could have sworn.
In the cold rain, all that there is are the tempestuous memories. Fire that was inherent, drew instead cold comfort from one that had been predominant in all that is left, the hollow shell.
It was on repeat. Constantly, in my head. ‘I choose you’.
The phantom memories engulf me and I drown. They are words I hear but was never said. Not to me.
Never to me.
In the cold rain on a summer night, I hear the words said but you whisper them to him. The soft voice, one you hardly ever used, couldn’t have been any more resounding.
I looked up, each rain drop I hope enough to leave me blinded. It never was.
For the pain consuming me does not transcend to the world that has continuously turned. My pain a mockery and the hollow shell left at your behest.
Water had continued to fall. A cold comfort I relied on. I feel around —it had long since stopped, though water seem to flow.
‘I choose you’.
In that summer night when all else was dry,
I drowned.