Everything will be fine....
Everything will be gone.
Nothing will hurt anymore.
It's gon' cost a story, but nothing she hadn't—walk through before.
A mischievous experiment with a mouse, The cat before a feast.
A safe maneuver on the brain,
And so slowly he devours her all.
Reborn, with a new life to draw.
She wouldn't be her anymore.
Though as the soul remains the same,
Shall sojourn the entangled morose body.
The waterfalls, she's weeping and screaming...
The current of rules and routes, slithering through the fingers,
Fading with each drying tears.
Never in our hands, the book carves the fate. Believe and have faith, breathe... Breathe in deep.
But it hurts to...
Breaking the bones and crafting them the way he likes.
A kaleidoscopic butterfly, caught in a ferocious spider's web.
Loving him before the haven,
The wreathing of a mellow cocoon.
The bud blooms and she spreads her wings...
She flys, and fars away...
Stuck still in the grim shadows of the haunted forest.
Weaving the grid, tracing along distant woods.
And suddenly,
Twinkles the drop of water from rain on the see-through threads,
Rays through the agape of clawing, looming branches of trees.
A kaleidoscopic butterfly is caught,
The shining web of a ferocious spider surceasing the soar...
The enraptured dark creature crawls near,
The glowing butterfly adhered to the slicing laces, flutters to free.
Two miscellaneous lives cannot be one,
So he cuts off the wings.
For the thirst and hunger are never appeased with only the wings,
He wishes for forever...
He loves her, and slowly; he devours her all.
---
'When you're awaken, you'll reborn. I will engulf every bits and pieces of you, so breathe through me.'
'Only I shall live in you.'
Soft, steady breaths, she's peacefully resting on the comfortable bed.
The mind is clouded, there's a heavy ivory fog hovering around. The senses clearing slow, smell of bitter antiseptic, and a searching fragrance of floral from soap and cleaners. The shrill beeps of machines ringing in the ears.
The lids shifting light, butterfly lashes fluttering, through thin slits of her seal, the brightness stabs her vision. Flinching she shuts the veil. Endeavouring to see once more, she slowly opens her eyes.
The blur fading, the numb pupils roams accross the very spacious room.
White walls, machines, darkness through the wide unveiled, floor to ceiling windows. The white curtains huddled on the sides, the dark blue sky eclipses the radiance of the golden daylight.
Just then a heavy weight on her waist seizes her consciousness. Turning her head, a form of a man entangled to her creases timidly her brows.
His head buried in the crook of her neck, she shifts in her place from the cramped closeness. Feeling the sudden motion, in a jolt, he awakens his dizzy mind. He lifts his head, peering at her, meeting those rounded, cocoa orbs of her.
"You're finally here." His deep, raspy voice murmers.
"Who are you?" She whispers out only to wince at the arid throat. Swallowing to moist it down, the feathery graze of his rough fingers, floating along from her temple—overwhelming her, she squirms under the caging caress of his hand on her cheek.
"I'm Ishmael, your husband." He says, a smile painting in the face of the ravishing man with dark brown iris, long lashes carving almond eyes. Enhanced virility with the firm and dark linear eyebrows, high straight nose, thin lips, a strong triangular jaw.
"Husband?" She breezes out, looking up at his gentle gaze. "But I–" She breaks her words, her features shrinking in confusion.
She wanted to retort the declaration of the foreign man, but surging through the memories, she finds it clouded, too vacant and discolored.
She clutches her head, a sharp pain piercing through the skull. Blurred, the mind can pull nothing from the knowing heart. Her breathing is ragged and spiralling, the heart beating uproariously, the insides are heated, and the cheeks are reddening...
It's quiet, too tranquiled; it's terrifying.
"I-I don't remember anything," her words are cluttered as she burrows her nails in her temple. A cold panick seeping in through the pores, her bones shudders from the frost of white in the brain.
"It's fine, it's fine. Look at me love," he ceases her hands from bruising herself—and bleeding the thin flesh.
He kisses her knuckles, her aghast eyes gathered on him, he's handling her with tenderness.
"You're my wife. My Neva." He affirms, verity reflecting in his orbs.
"Be calm, I'll call the doctor hmm?" He tucks the strands of curled hair behind her ear, but she's slumping into the sheets from his touch.
He frowns, siren eyes darkening. But her anxious and faltering self has warmth return in his sight.
"Don't be afraid. I'll protect you." He affirms, bringing her in his embrace.
A small smile dangles on his lips, she's not fighting him anymore.
He closens them more, holding her numb form, and feeling the rapid heartbeats, vibrating into him through the attachment of the chests.
When he's fondling her hair lovingly, she puts her hands on his chest, pushing him away. Glancing at him, she fears his falling features.
"W-water," she mumbles, swallowing tight. He nods, the gloominess in his gaze fading. The ends of his lips arching up lightly, he kisses her forehead.
Getting off the bed, he saunters towards the coffee table in the middle, half circled by the sofas arranged against the windows. He's faring for a little while, and she breathes out waveringly—the air she was unknowingly grappling.
The unfamiliar scene dawning in, the heart is a white canvas, painted with a transparent reed. Frivolously she sits up, the lungs are constricting again, beads of sweat drizzling in her hairlines.
She closes her eyes, needing anything, any colour...
Wondering everything...
Yet, she's looking for nothing.
She's grating her teeth, head lowered, pulling the hair hard in her trembling fist, the dried roots are almost reaped off her barren shell, as Ishmael stands there in a distant—with a glass of water in his hold, deeply staring at Neva, a grim demeanour shaded around him.
She's in pain, and she's gasping for solace. She's alone, she's afraid; she's hollow...
A bitter, rotting feeling of lose. She isn't able to catch the red petals of roses and carnation, swirling, soaring in the wind.
The black clouds of the boundless night sky crumples her up, squeezing her so tight, she cannot even wriggle to free anymore.
And the burning hot tears swimming down her cheeks, little sobs slipping away her lips, do so bare ease the nameless agony.