Fluent in Regret
All is silent once more - deafeningly silent - and I
cannot disillude my senses any further. I am tired of waiting for Eternity
to whisper my name. No book or diary shall ever grant a glimpse of my
heart, my tempestuous dreams, or my loss of faith in forever. She does
not exist anymore. Once - not so long ago - I heard voices where silence
now lies. They spoke of beauty and immortality with lips of velvet flesh.
They mingled with the echoes of my childhood when I listened too closely.
Their language imbibed my being, and I was fluent in their melodic tongues.
Those tongues have been cut out. I know that I must harbor a regret
somewhere; I feel its spindles puncturing the most tender skin of my
memory. Regret, yes, but nothing I would not dare to indulge again.
The face of Eternity is far too lovely to disappoint....although her
kiss is more harsh than grief. And again, as once before, I have kissed
her farewell. Eternity dances between us, and I hear her silently whispering
of love and final hours. Tempting, she is, and I want with a fool's
heart to trust her...and you. Fluency prevents such a blunder. I have
heard this tongue before...and it lied. It told me beautiful things
that weren't so, and then you disappeared. And all is silent...once