Breathe Deep

Breathe Deep.1

Intense eyes focused out into the darkness of night. Searching for the glimmering reflection they knew would be created. Eyes that shown into emptiness.2

A glimmer, and the eyes followed it. Knowing what it belonged to. View flowing down to peer at the blade. Throwing all who he promised out the window. They truly did not matter. He knew who he could not promise that the blade would not be seen, and so he avoided that word.3

One assisted. Pushing a new blade across the table when the old got dull. Pleased him when she could. Pleasure that drew up the want to drag the blade. Love? Lust? Her name had been lost.4

Another asked for word. He gave. He cried as the blade drew blood. He did not keep. Cried not for pain. Love? Demand? A name had never been told.5

Yet another cried. Watched his pain. Let each drop of blood draw out her own sanity. Whipped away each tear. Love? Comfort? Refuge? He knew her name, but would not share.6

Few more stood around, not sitting at the table with him and the other three. One had sat with him at the table, or rather brought him to the table. One more let him know judgment would not come, let him know a forceful hand would not stop him. Others still stood, could not see him... and he faintly them.7

He pushed on the blade. The one on the left helped guide his hand. The one on the right sat with disappointed eyes. The one across from him wept. The blade would not cut, it spoke to him. He heard, "You must pick a table for two. Choose and I may come with you, or I may not."8

Eyes looked up, at the paths of his life. Extending in pain, going on in a dead sprint, or peace leading to rest. Twisting turning paths. Up and down. Pain spreading far or being cut short.9

He raised his hand, with the blade and stared at it. Listening as it screamed at him to choose. Screaming him to take the paths that kept it with him.10

Intense eyes focused on the one across from him. He picked first. The blade was left behind.11

Breathe Deep.12