what do you want from me? (arc + mattio)
Feb 14, 2015 20:40:23 GMT -5
Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Feb 14, 2015 20:40:23 GMT -5
the sound of a beating heartbeat, the thought of him being gone for almost a year by now makes it sick. he should have gone home. he should still be breathing. Not some girl from five. (he's gone and i swear the heartbeat that i hear day after day belongs to him and its starting to drive me insane.) one, the blade in my right hand makes connection to my wrist, creating a masterpiece that only i could appreciate, rewarded with tears that run down my face. it's just art, so why does it hurt so much?
i can only imagine how many times people have considered talking to me, most of them too scared to see me with the bloodshot eyes that always dance on my face with pure happiness. are my eyes so red because it's the color of what spilled out the day he died and every day since as the scars representing each day he's not here and every other representing how stupid i am for not taking his place so he didn't have to die.
two, flesh and metal meet yet once again, battling for the rightful dam that will break sooner or later revealing a beautiful scarlet colour that seems to fill my mind and dreams every day now.
i almost find it funny how death is so scary to people anymore, it'll happen to them sooner or later, right? those who don't get sent into that horrid place that will have scarlet red dancing all over the arena without any hesitations just get a longer chance at life, it means that they're safe but still are going to die, just not as young as some of them in the games had.
what if i just ended it now? he is waiting for me to join him in a place where we can both run through the lawn and be careless about the world. he is, he's standing at the gates of heaven waiting for that young friend to run through the fields with. he's waiting for me
i don't care anymore about what they think of the boy who is so heartbroken about losing hisbrotherbest friend in the whole entire country of panem. (his heart is beating. i can feel it, i can hear the occasional thump of a heart that's not mine) and i swear he is in the room with me, he's just sleeping.
three. the blade cuts across my wrist one more time and the moan of pain falling from my mouth is completely unreal it feels like jello. my scream pierced the entire house, not really meaning anything to the others but to me it means payback for his death.
i don't want to spend any more time in my puddle of blood longer than i have to, so as the hooded sweatshirt had been pulled over my head, i was out the door.
it was cold. that wasn't a surprise as it was winter, but i was shivering so much i couldn't even see straight. everything i saw in front of me represented him and nobody else. the dead rose bushes was his heart and brain, dead and wilting. the snow that decorated the ground in front was his heart; freezing inside the coffin made for specifically him. that didn't stop me from walking. the tears of pain streamed down my face as i walked with the head belonging to me down, unaware of any passing people. all i could hear was the familiar thump of a heart that was not mine, but someone who's grown into a monster.