I wrote this in a moment of anguish, perhaps more than merely a moment. It is, in my opinion, the most raw emotion that I have ever written. I am happily experiencing and writing new chapters now, but I wanted to share this one too.
For V, it was a good chapter.
If I could exist as but one thing in the wake of losing you, I’d be a charred and creased parchment. Crinkled and spotted with inky blots of mercurial tears, my words to you on the softest vellum.
I’d sacrifice myself, with only your will in mind, to feverishly write and burn another chapter. Thousands and thousands set to burn slowly, steadily, unendingly. The ashes of my thoughts, the blackened edges of my being.
If I could be something, I’d be your nothing. The words that you crumpled up and threw aside, pages that you pick up now and again, smoothing out the wrinkles, thoughtfully reading for a moment. The space between a heartbeat in your mind is worth a lifetime of use.
I would not even want to exist, while whispering your secret name, yearning to hear the words that say I am kept as a toy on your shelf. Nothing to you, everything to me. Your smudged and burnt pages.