Author: snow-birdy PM
I want you to know that I knew you would remain perfect. Burning in the sky a few thousand years from here. Remus observes the upper air for a while...Non SlashRated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Sirius B. & Remus L. - Words: 1,084 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 3 - Published: 05-15-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3541013
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Rating: T for a little swear and general bitterness…
Genre: If there was a "Remus goes a little insane" genre, I'd put it there. But I guess it's angsty drama. I was debating on whether or not to put this in the poetry section, but I decided not to.
Disclaimer: I do not own them, though I wish I did. Maybe I own the fact that Remus is staring at the sky. But then again, that's not highly original either. I hope it isn't too strange…This is what happens when I start listening to interesting music and researching stars. Maybe I should lay off the mythology, huh?…However, the whole "star in the bag" thing is mine. So no takey!
Summary: "I want you to know that I knew you would remain perfect. Burning in the sky a few thousand years from here." Remus observes the upper air for a while…Non Slash. Seriously.
She came to me the other day claiming it was her fault. I suppose she felt sorry for me when she found me deep inside your closet hiding my face in your coat. Breathing in your scent. She only wants to confirm it so she can salvage a little moment of glory when they have sympathy on her. I tried to talk her out of it, but she still pretends to grieve for you.
That silly bitch. Trying to take over my responsibility.
I wish I could tell her that it will never be over. I will never stop concealing myself behind your door, and she most certainly will never heal the sick, deep cut left by your absence. That's right, you never had my permission. Yet when did you ever?
For the most part, I lie here in the clearing with the open sky. You said the stars seem like pearly marbles in a black and blue cloth that threaten to tear the sky down from whatever ledge it hangs. You liked to tell me that God collected them, and that when He had too much one day, the sky would fall on the earth. Then the stars would fall into the ocean and frighten the fish. That was the part that made me laugh. Then, you said, people would realize that the stars were tiny marbles instead of burning spheres. They could float around in the ocean and fishermen could catch them in their nets. God would pick up the blue bag again and continue collecting stars. Wouldn't the ocean run out of room for the stars? I asked, and you said No, the people would find them washed up on the shore and bite into them to heal. Of course the sun would be found first and thrown back into the sky. Since everyone would continue eating the stars, God would need to collect more to drop the bag once again. I laughed and told you I couldn't live without your stories. You smiled and said you just can't live without me. True. I never asked you where God got the stars, but perhaps you never knew the answer yourself. Then I realized one day that perhaps God was going to collect you also. After all, you are the brightest star. So I lie here in the clearing near that house, the grass whipping about my face and hands. I watch your little star intently, hoping, praying that when God drops that cloth, you would fall into the ocean. Then I could travel to the shore to collect you, to bring you home where you belong. Safe in my arms, warm and free of the cold space between us.
If only life were your kind of reality.
The chilled air fills my lungs now and I know I must go back. I'm happiest here in the night world you created for me, yet they are waiting. Waiting for a polite half smile and a bit more gray hair. Waiting for the answers I do not have. Waiting for the love I cannot give her. Waiting for me to return with a sane frame of mind so they will not have to acknowledge the truth of your physical non existence. Little do they now, I'll continue to trace the lines of your footprints and hold fast to your coat, slipping into your skin and wearing it as a pelt.
I want you to know that I knew you would remain perfect.
Burning in the sky a few thousand years from here,
no matter how hard I tried.
There is no stopping God, so
I must lie here and convince Him of my broken heart.
And an arm can reach down, and take me back. They are waiting, and they will never take No for an answer. So I scoop up a hand full of blades for proof of this discussion. I will tape them to each wall in the early morning, and collect your star when it comes crashing into the ocean.