Settimo Strato -A voice from within

The bright light crashes across her face as the thunder in turn growls. It is raining and once again she’s alone. Alone but from fears and doubts. No warm presence enters the room to kiss her well and rock her gently to sleep so much for television. The lashes push back and she is looking at the ceiling. Shadows stretch across a rough surface. Darkness. She breathes again. The now drenched lashes roll back once more, like flood gates parting, the pain streams out. Sigh. She turns on her side, a cotton sheet drapes over the cold silhouette. She shifts and we are looking at the floor. She directs her attention to the scattered sorrow that reflects her hope of life. I focus in the black mass that reflects her spirit, untamed and beautiful. I reach to feel the thin beads of silk that flea finding refuge on her blank surface. A tall smile stares through the scattered glass. How different then he looked than the hour last past. “It’s over.” Cool and apathetic as always. She forgave herself a tear as he turned to leave. Emotions she felt not for him seep out as they had with every tall smiling figure before. “Sorry Madi”. Bastard. Once again she was emptying herself for him. I reach out and touch her. She pushes the tears and her wild strands accompany f black out of my way as I caress the angelic purity that runs through her skin. Perfection not yet created in my world. “Sorry Madi.” The same tears I shed then return. I stand up and quietly crawl over beside her, in her. Perfectly still in her being. Her breathing ceases and the long black lashes part fewer times. Silence. Slowly I rise. I stand above her trying to absorb her sorrow with the same futile hope as I had with every tall smile before. I shut my eyes and breath. Inhaling her beauty I become undone. An unforgiving tear escapes me and lingers around my eyelid. As always bliss refuses to stay with me long, I exhale and let it return to her. The liquid sorrow taunts me no longer as it does trickles down my face. Rolling off me it drips upon perfection. I bend slowly over feeling myself on blankness my lips quiver as I kiss where a small drop of my pain had tainted her. “Sorry Madi.”
She leaves me before I am ready to let her go/ I sit by the window as she turns in her sleep. My eyes follow the shadows as they chase the silhouette with every turn she makes. A chill flows through the room finding its way up her naked spine. She’s cold. I walk over and pull the artificial warmth over her. With regret I am veiling splendor as I try not to disturb the now rarely taken rest she takes. I walk back to the window and hide the glow of night. The chill chases after leaving her, with it the scent of lavender. I follow diagram

I open my eyes and a piece of bronze glides from the sky above. It is autumn and the world is perfect. I sit under a large tree that is causing the bronze to dispatch into the air. A chill runs up my spine and leaves me here in perfect solitude. I reach once more for the black silk collection of beads, a nightly black mass that eludes me. I lean in feeling the warmth rush through. The longer I hold her the warmer I get causing the cold to retreat.
“You’re so cold” A rusty voice blows softly. She winds herself around me.
“Yeah?” I smile. Not to show the joy that at this point does not exist. I smile so that her lips push back in answer. “So how was your day?” The pink petals no longer stretch out, no longer pushing for happiness. Sigh. Her usual pout returns, the pink petals massage each other and the black smudge widens. It covers the soft pink as a warrior covers his flesh. She hides her innocence and puts another layer of black on. Preparing for battle. She begins.
“F**K, where do you want me to start...” The black war paint rubs together once more covering the wounds from previous battles. Bitten lips; I shouldn’t have asked. “…And that was all before I left the house.” Unwinding herself she reaches back. “With al that I was already annoyed when he started with the…” Delicate tips reach into her bag. I watch them as I had many times before and desired them as I would to come. Raking my skin sending hair to stand with excitement. Now after aggressively pushing the contents about they slip out clutching another tube of war paint. She glosses over her black pout as she wished her life. They collide once more. The long unpolished nails that dug in beneath my skin causing my neck to bleed from pleasure come from the dark pout one at a time blunt with uneven layers of black enamel. I reach out and take them from her. Holding them in my larger hands that wear no cover but that of many angry fist forms. She pulls me close and traces their marks. Reaching my neck she leans in to whisper. “I don’t know why you do that. You really do act immature sometimes.”
“Oh, really?” I push her through the air. Her head rests on a pillow of bronze. The black beads scatter around her. “And what would be the reason for this” My finger lies on her skin along with small black ink. I smile as the scent of lavender runs through me. The rest of my hand joins the finger as I grip her neck and bend in to kiss her. I feel a jab near my ribs. I’m no longer above but across from her stretched out on the leaves. “Ouch, that hurt.” I rub where she had punched me and frown. She smiles and her delicate tips meet with mine bellow my heart. She turns on her side. I do the same and fall into the deep blue of her eyes.

The white leaps up and the waves abandon me. I am stranded, alone, surrounded by blonde and overcooked skin. Great. I look up from the pages I was holding in, escaping the misery of family holidays; I hid behind the black letters until now. An air filled plastic hits landing on top of the black ink. Not aimed at anyone in particular but intended to take the attention acknowledging my existence with it I throw. I reach for liquid nothing but find myself gazing at a mass of black. The idea of life with an intellect score above one hundred motivates me. I push my legs forward, find my feet on the hot sand, I stand. A few steps and I’m out of the shadows of my lonely solitude. I step over the silicon filled corpses and past the large muscle drenched sweat until I reach the dark shadow. I stand frozen in acquired silence from the stare. In my relief of finding normality I hadn’t thought of what to say. Smack. My hands grip a book. “Read this will you. Tell me what you think.” She lies back again. The buckles of her sand covered combat boots jingle as she picks grains off the equally inappropriate trousers she wears. I finish four hours later; with no more than a handful of words left she becomes my best friend. I turn to the last blank face, finished reading I look up. Her eyelids shut she’s asleep as beads of sweat run up her black strands of wildness. I take a Bic from under my tightly pulled hair and scribble a few more notes, this time only seven digits. The book shuts and I stand up. I stand and direct my attention to the angry corpse that stares back.

“Please, I just want to speak to her.” Three summers past and the angry corpse still stares back. This time the hostile silhouette has a name, Mum. I pleaded with her as I looked past onto the tightly pulled pout of perfection I was willing to grovel for every time the angry corpse pulled back the red wood I had knocked on. What seemed like ten layers of hell later the door finds its way in front of my face once again. I turn. Sitting behind the black disk I squeeze aggression out of I look. A reflection of tears approach. Sigh. Another door opens. Familiar sensations grip my neck. Fingers slide through me and soft pain spilled lips reach out to me. The door slams shut and we’re chasing a dream. Four blissful existences later the dream ends and only hope remains.
The clock is stuck on three fifty-four as it had been for two hundred and ninety three days last past and will continue to be for another ten minutes from now when the batteries die and the memory of me fades a little more. She won’t notice nor will she until she forgives herself a laugh. A small giggle that is consequence will lead to ten sleeplessly lonely nights of pondering. I sigh as I dread those nights. Leaning against the windows I will remain here and in the past for the rest of eternity that makes up my heaven. After the tenth night she will finally sleep alone and for the first time break a promise. A promise I made as the speed dial reached ninety and her hair flew wildly behind us. As lust and adolescence spoke and true love carried out, maturity ad regret now must break, for I cannot follow where you now go. Instead I will remain with us. We will meet now only in our memories and dreams as I know no more than I had lived and you shed me through sorrow. I must now part to chase the lavender back into eternal bliss with you, but leave but this simple note that I had left the night the pain ceased, once again I know no more to end with than my only regret and a lonely tear. “Sorry Madi.”
(M, not family but close enough.)