To my memories, to the past

Everything is gone. You've always served as a paragon for me, even if you were indeed horrific. I will never know how you were able to brew up such a brooding storm, or how you were able to stir up the sun and pick apart it's flares, leaving me bare and pale. You consume everything. You eat up everything I do and eventually it becomes part of you, and no longer a part of the present. For this I am angry, and strikingly grateful.

I once believed you were the overture of all this, but I understand now that you were just the aftermath of the storms that existed before I did. An aftermath, that which within holds the desolate ruins of the city before the storm, now in shambles, sprawled across the hard earth, engendering a bucolic atmosphere that stays with me. Yes. The faint petrichor that rushes into my senses, complemented by the distant brontide, stirring both in the skies and within me. There is barely anything in your hands now that I still wish to hold. The only reason I do not forget you is because, she was there.

But what can I do when you decide to throw away the things I value the most. The things now lost in the sough of zephyr, in the humming breeze of the blazing autumn? What did I do to suffer such assessment at your hands, that I might confess here with this stylus? I guess the answer isn't lost. I suppose it's in your hands, dangling high between your fingers almost mockingly, looming just above my reach. Someday the weight of it will make it fall, and into my hands, finally. Someday you won't control me anymore.

~Yours truly, Deathless

Letters From The AbyssRead this story for FREE!