Phantom

I am a ghost. I am a stranger in a world where people are breathing, where hearts are still beating. I am an onlooker, a witness to the unraveling of many threads of life. There is a path between the world of the living and the dead. It is a cold, cold path, far more cold, indeed, than the darkest reachest of Death itself. It is a gray, gray place where no sun has ever shone, where no laughter has ever been heard. There is a thin veil separating you from the Living. You cannot pass the veil, but rather you spend much of your time, looking at the going on's of a world you remember dimly. And so, seasons come and go, and the pull to the world you knew slowly begins to die. You drift away, to a quiet resting spot. 'Tis the natural order of things. We are hesitant to let go, we are afraid of the unknown. The unknown, love, Death, is much better than this. For to die is to close your eyes and say goodbye at last to the woes that haunt us from the first breath we take. But we linger still, to watch the living interact, unaware all the while that we look on, not feeling anything.

Love, I will not let go. The others have ceased to feel and long since left me. I cannot feel my limbs, I cannot feel my eyes. My heart does not beat. There is a silence here, a silence rivaled only by the silence of Death. But Death is a peaceful silence, a finality, and this...this is expectant. This silence is that of a predator preparing to spring at it's unwary victim. I am not unwary.

How long have I been here? I will not forgot our love. Love, you told me, is like the stars. They are the same, everywhere you go. There are more than you can see, brighter than you can imagine, and they go back and back into the deepest reachest of Infinity. Subconciously, I always knew that Infinity and Love were both pretty lies, just like you. But I didn't believe it then, and even in Death I am still trying to come back to you.

I remember leaving you, love. I remember harsh words, my fist slapping your cheek. The tears in your eyes. The way my heart was breaking. I am always running away. You were right when you said I am like the wind. I cannot stay in one place for too long. It is not in me for stay too long. I will be the butterfly, you said, but butterflies flit by and then they are gone.

And I ran, I ran so far but I never could find the stars. And somehow, I never could find my way back to you.

I found my way here, instead. I don't know how it happened. Or why. But now, I am just as empty as before, even more so. I will not die, not until you get here. You will have me then, love. I have learned to believe that pretty lies are better than harsh truths. And I will have you. For I cannot have the stars. I cannot have Infinity. I still do not understand Love. But I will wait.

And as hours pass, I scarcely dare to breathe. Your hair, once golden, is now white as the purest snow. There are wrinkles there that I do not remember. It must be time. I am waiting. One more breath, and I am still waiting. I am still waiting, and still you are not here. I remember something you forgot to mention, love. It has taken me this long, but I am remembering now. Stars burn out, do they not? The stars are gone now. The heavens...ah, the blackness swallows me! I close my eyes and I succumb to it.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Well, I am at last dying now. But my life is not flashing before my eyes. You are, love, your golden hair and sapphire eyes. And you pull me against your chest, your hard muscles somehow managing to be soft. Your lips flit against my skin, and your finger traces a path down my cheek. "There are always new stars born, love," You tell me. "There are always new stars..."

But the stars are gone...and you are still not here...