I run. As fast and far as I can. Away from your scent. Away from your taste. I'm afraid of glimpsing a future that is both so futile, yet so pure. A thing so wanted, so coveted, I fight the temptation to relinquish what little humanity I have left and fall into you.
The gentle rain covers me as I make my way and hides the tears that expose me. Running. As far as my breath will take me. Just as the leaves change, only to fall and die. So do my memories and senses. Until the spring rain splashes across my lips forcing me to taste the newness of life. It purges my vision, cuts my breath and a new song invades my being. Lightening dances across the sky as thunder ignites my senses.
This taste of spring would be convoluted or violent, if it weren't for the bittersweet taste of death birthing life. Where once we were the envy of the gods. Now we're diminished to the memories of the first breath of autumn.
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