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Death of a Nihilist [poetry]

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you should be scared of life as much as you're scared of death. // A Modern Tragedy, Volume IV | UPDATING DAILY FOR APRIL //

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06. misnomer

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my darling, she wanted her life and death to be timeless.
like time.
forgotten, forever revered.
burrowing at the edge of nonexistence, 
forever moving forward in nonlinear leaps.

she wanted to be smothered in her sleep.
wanted her corpse to be preserve in parts,
spread eagle in this bed,
this house of flesh.
wanted to gouge her heart,
her lungs,
hang them above the mantle, in golden-framed
glass case, so everybody could see how her body 
contracted and expanded, a steady heartbeat
of an empty universe, of a vacant home waiting to be
fill and alive, once again.

my darling, she knew what she wanted.
knew what made her sad,
what made her happy.
maybe that was why she couldn't forgive me.
drooping in the seat
as if she couldn't bear the sight of scented candles or
red silk tablecloth spreaded in front of
her, shoulders sagged slightly
every time i carefully leaned over
to swap an untouched plate for another.
the rose i tucked in her gray hair withered
dry like raw salmon she used to love.

she no longer talks.
the mundane subjects of our meal times were now
solitary, sharp, muted clinks of
fork and knife, scraping against
white porcelain as fine as her dull eyes.
gossip murmured in the stillness 
of her eyelids, her swelling skin,
her cherry-red false nails, resting on the mahogany
chair's armrests.
her resentment etched deep onto the wrinkles
of age, of time on her face,
curdled in the low audible snarling of her stomach.

she wouldn't pull away at nights
when i crawled into bed with her.
but her heart, her lungs,
still framed in ordinary bone
rib cages,
hidden behind the translucent screen of
her skin, her muscles,
refused to beat,
no matter how much i pour my love into her hallow
pith. no matter how many times i beg her to stay with me once again,
to remain peripheral, yet significant in my mind.

my darling, neither her life nor death was timeless.
but like time, she hovered at the brink of corporeality,
fading away to the undivinable flow of unreality.


⸻
misnomer: a misapplied or inappropriate name or designation
prompt: time (nonlinear)
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