He never was quite right after that. He didnt feel the same, even his hair took notice it seemed and fell a different way and his eyes didnt glimmer and instead grew dull. Death wore on his skin, it looked dirty even when he washed it. His eyes grew hazy like he was not amongst the living any more, but he was. That was the heartbreaking truth of the matter. Though he still kept walking, each step fell heavier every day that passed. He smiled, but only half-assedly. Each smile a silent death of his soul as he tried to cock one corner of his mouth to try and ease every pair of eyes that caught his own. He was living, but he was the living dead. Not some sort of science fiction zombie bullshit...just the kind of person who looked as though something weighed down on them no matter what they did. It hung in the air around him. He never looked at me the same way again. I could see it in his eyes that death had embraced him and wouldnt let go. He averted his eyes when at all possible. He knew Id seen his eyes dull and that I could see the invisible shroud wrapped tightly around him. He whispered instead of speaking in his normal tone, his lashes seemed to carry something that caused his eyelids to fall and he always looked like he was drugged up on some sort of opiate, but he never had any sticky bitterness stuck to his lips when I looked at them. Most of the time, he rolled those gorgeous jewelled slits in his skull shut, back up into his head, and thunked his head behind whatever was behind him. Sometimes it was street lamps, sometimes brick walls, but most of the time it was the top of the drivers seat in his car because he was always trying to get up and go. He was always somewhat overwhelmed by wander lust, but after death, he couldnt control it any more. It took hold of him, swept him up and out of his bed, left him tired from walking, but too restless to ever stay put. His lips didnt feel the same against mine either. Every kiss seemed cold even when it was hot and sticky outside and when his breath came out in desperate panting against my tongue slipping. At night, instead of pulling away from my embrace, hed whimper in his sleep if my arms left him when my skin became overheated or my arm fell asleep beneath his pillow. I tried my best to make him smile. It was the only thing to do. The only thing I could do to deal with the rapidly changing man before me. I watched him watch me out of the corner of my eyes when I caught him, I always felt those dull eyes upon me...it was rather hard not to notice, not to feel them. And when my eyes caught his, I could see it in the way the corners of his lips tightened, uncomfortably so, that he saw death upon me too. He was visualizing how death would greet me, and it terrified him. His eyes would widen for a split second, and he would tear them away before he saw any more of deaths fingers reaching out towards him...and me. Hed quickly change the subject, bring up something nervously that made him swallow dryly. A fact hed never told me...I swore it was like mortality had made him a walking encyclopedia, and he mustve spent endless hours looking for these facts just to have a new thing to say each time that my eyes caught his. He never slept right any more. I never saw him sober again. And though we tried to pretend things hadnt changed, it was inevitable. It knocked him on his ass and every time he stood back up, it pushed him back to the ground. He had no faith in anything, though he tried to pretend he did. He constantly clenched his teeth together in his sleep as if expecting someone to punch him square in the jaw, bracing for impact even when his body shouldve gotten some rest, and for that he was never quite well-rested after that either. He held onto me instead of being weird about every embrace, and he would compliment me as if he was scared if he didnt say it then and there he would forget what he wanted to say to me, which was strange behaviour for him...he had never done that before as it was outside of his comfort zone, or had been rather. He kept this odd sort of distance, like he was terrified of being too close, but scared shitless of being too far away from me. I found it hard to determine what he would do after that point in time. Hed sometimes reach over and take my hand while he was driving, and sometimes hed just lay his hand on my leg, as if silently making me aware that he was still trapped inside the body though he felt his mind and bones rotting away every day. Id lift my eyes, but his eyes, though dull, kept them on the road, and if I squeezed back, there was that painful half smile again. The kind that made him close his eyes at a stop light in the middle of the night when no cars were around, and I would let my eyes linger over him then, carefully taking note of the fact that he still was breathing. Though he seemed a figment of my imagination, if I touched his chest when he was asleep, which was the only time I would allow myself to do so, I could feel his heartbeat frantically pacing as if he were sprinting away from her in his sleep though his feet never moved, his legs never did either...and the only other time I felt the reminder of his still functioning organs was when he bared his soul beneath me. When he gave everything to me and when I still hungrily took it, because right after his body would bow upwards and hed press up against me like a flower turning to face the warm sun instinctively, he would collapse and eagerly bring my hand to his chest to prove that somewhere beneath the corpses appearance, he was still living, and would go on living until his heart gave out or in.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Mar 2014 04:38:14 +0000
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