Loss borne upon stranded shores.

Today I cried; he is gone. Not just the puppy that stood watch over my suffering soul for so many years, not just the dog that I held as some supposed witness put there to validate the holiness of my guilt, but my own self has seemed to slip away. The wounds of my youth burn brightly, scars reinvigorated; they are no longer healed. Old tissue breaking apart just to reveal bloodless cuts no deeper than I recalled. 

What was the point of this torture? 

Did you want to remind yourself of the pain you endured?

You thought you could forget the thing that always made you smile?

I did think that! I believed that deep within that buried desire would starve, wither, and be smited. I top the mound, throw away the shovel, and shed tears to bare earth each time I believe the battle is over. The stitches are red, bloody and marred just as the day they were not cast.

Whose certainty provided such shelter to that bitter positivity you hold so unsparingly tight to your chest?

Could it truly be you?

I cried not just for his loss, I cried for the loss of so many others, the loss of my certainty, and I cried knowing all those I hold close will fade away soon enough. I know that when they do, their ghosts will circle within my head, casting shadows while they twist riddles and tell me lies.

Can an innocent’s untainted mind harbour such persistent violence?

I think not. The things I have done called this hand down to earth to grip me. My sins cast red hot in the memories burning brightly. Your loss is not just your own, it is mine. Please know I will not forget you, and every time I remember I will be seized with an urge to self violate. I will curdle, seize up, and beg to rip open again, but as a final act of devotion to you, I will abstain. My sacrifice is my love, and your memory.

I am sorry I can not be better, but I will do my best.