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EMBEDDED

[fictions, by Lúcia David]

Embedded love is the worst kind you can catch. It's like a forever cold. You can't breath. You want to smile and want to cry. You just seat there and take it in full. You seat there waiting to stretch wings and go away but you can't move. You love so badly that you ache. You love so much that you hate yourself. You forget about your own existence. You can not see but the other and the beauty and you seat and contemplate, and stay still and feel just foolishly happy. Is this not totally unbearable! Totally incomprehensible! And so inappropriate! You, seating there growing roots, deeper and deeper, that feed on presents and love notes, promises of eternity and procreation. Until. And that punch comes. It hits you somewhere in the head and you fall down and you taste the musty flavour of your dirty carpet and the salt of your tears, and you try to breath and it's all blocked and bloody. And then, Only then! you grab the chair where you have been just seating and start to smash the furniture and the windows and the china presents, but then it's too late! Your heart is already broken and your veins poisoned, and your brain has expired. Now there's only embedded misery to take on board.

[ka,set08]