III
After all this time, it was still her. False-set, in the trees, just how I left her before. My dear Alexandria, how you call to me. How do you offset my frustration? You stood alone, in that yard, culling me with the simplest of words. In solemn, do I find myself – pondering of your existence.
When I first met you – my time on this earth was planned abridged. My up-comings showed a long, disastrous life with fatigue plaguing my emancipated tenure. So, I took the liberty to declare my resignation.
By mid-june I sold all belongings and keepsakes that stopped me from making my plunge. My dog, Poglet, was freed from my torturous conscriptions, going to a nice blonde lady – sold at ninety-five dollars plus change. All my technology including my phone would be sold on the last day to not draw attention to the matter. My family lived rather far, so checking on me by text was considered the norm.
The second day after selling my final piece – I met you, my dearest Alexandria. Beautiful and golden in all your prescriptive light – meeting you felt like an eclipse upon land. To the train that gathered us at 7:32, I thank so holy – and seep all hate for allowing me the teasing of happiness.
I took the train only after selling my car to my buddy for $550. When all participants flocked to the metal, would I lay my eyes upon you, Alexandria. You were a junior in college, what I would be if I matriculated to Princeton. Your light was as ordinary as the fodder that surrounded you – but there was something else. A light hidden by a moon – you were an eclipse; An eclipse so bright, it appeared as normal as the brightest of suns.
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The object that blocked your light – your passion – was autonomic. Light dulled for shining too brightly at others. You were a spectacle amongst the average; yet you strove for normality. Normality was your moon; I grew greedy at that moon; I wanted to be your moon.
It’s only gonna hurt ya more
Seeing you now, before our final, has shown me a new path. The new light towards eventual freedom – thank you, my dearest Alexandria.
Star crossed lover eh?
You’ll be able to see them – sure…
But to tell you the truth:
It’s only gonna hurt ya more.
Seek to which ye rot.
Twenty-four hours after returning, the boy would retire his mortal coil. His tenure upon the land foreclosed, stripped from tireless shackles. Carved upon his body well read, “My dearest Alexandria, may I bask in your light once more?”
