Sunday, June 26, 2016

Down the Dark Stairwell

What is the condition of my heart?

As you begin to feel or find an image, write. Describe what you see. Spend some real time with it. If it's an image, describe it. If it's a sense, tell us how it feels. Don't rush. Really show us.
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Oh my. How it hurts.

It is a wound. At the end of a deep staircase. I can take you there.

Don’t take my hand. It won’t help. I am alone here but you can take a look around.

We come to a door. It is made of black walnut, his favorite wood to work with, but it is damp here so despite being such a hard wood, it is swollen in places and the hinges are sagging. It looks almost too heavy to open, but I do it every morning. I pull out the keyring and the sound of the keys hitting each other is enough to make you jump. It’s okay. I do too. It’s spooky here.

I turn the key and press my shoulder against the wood, hoping for a splinter, and push us inside. It is shadows and the sound of dripping water on lonely stone steps. There are no torches but enough light from your world sneaks in. Your eyes will adjust. Follow me as we descend.

It gets colder and colder as we step lower and lower into the bellows of my heart. It is a wet cold that makes your joints ache and teeth hurt. I’m sorry that your coat can’t stave off this bitter cold heart. I know you’re getting scared. I am too. The closer we get to the bottom, the deeper the dread begins to feel. I find it strangely comforting. I am coming home to my most deep self. I’m sure that’s frightening for you.

You can probably hear the rodents scattering. That is a good thing. They sometimes get bold and will climb right onto your feet. They are heavy but don’t bite. I know they’re repulsive though. They are my closest companions these days. I don’t feed or pet them but they still come around. They smell their own.

And, I apologize for the smell. The decay of love is a pungent odor. I can’t bring myself to clean these walls, they are wet with our tears and the sweat of our lovemaking. And the odor that smells like decomp is just that. His flesh I hold to me like a blanket against this cold.

You can tell we’re getting closer, and it’s best we don’t speak anymore. It disturbs her. So. I’ll tell you now. When you see her, the large gaping wound, I wouldn’t touch her, though I doubt you’ll want to. She has a tendency to hold onto anything living with a death grip that belies her weak heart. It’s okay to cry too. She doesn’t mind that. But don’t make too much of a scene of it. She may start too and the noise will be deafening. You can sit with her if you dare, but please try not to run. She does still have feelings and she knows she’s a terror to behold. She is awfully lonely but there’s nothing you can do about that. There is still time to turn around. If you are sure, we can continue.

Shhhhh. She is sleeping. But see how she oozes. See how she pulsates. She is horrific and I can’t stop staring. I know you can’t either. I’m going to just lay my head here. That’s it, tear your gaze away or you may never be able to. I understand you have to go. You can find your way out. I cannot. I will be here when she wakes. She needs me here. But you can go. 

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