Monologue Of Woods And Thorns

Things didn't use to be like this…

I didn't use to write long monologues about you, and you didn't use to be pale as snow.

The darkness of her soul
has stained her pure heart,
you can just scream and howl
for your forgotten broken part,
again loneliness and numbness
will be the ones to stop your dawn,
shadows of the ones like you, hopeless
they will eat the sun, for you the spawn,
a useless object made of wood and dirt,
a pitiful and fake broken stance
one night  with death you will flirt,
for ye forgotten soul, forgotten romance,
begging for a new life, away from this sadness,
to end this life, the only proof of sanity
being dragged down by the shadows of madness,
you're just a pitiful reflect of a non-existing reality

-You were never real, you were an illusion, just  like this pitiful lie called "life"- A man said as he stood before the gravestone of her beautiful, young deceased  wife.
Sculpted with fines moves, the stone carried her name:

"In memory of Sarah Woods, 1892-1909"

-You didn't do anything to save yourself, you decided it was easier to leave me behind, and so you did, when you slit your wrist with the beautiful thorny rose I gave you- the man said as he stared at the tomb of her deceased wife, with rancor and contempt.
He hated her beloved wife for ending her life when she was just seventeen years old. He always wondered where did he get it wrong, what did he do to deserve such inflicted punishment. Every night he sat on the edge of his bed, his lonely bed thinking about the times Sarah was still alive. He remembered how they used to stare at each other's face as they fell asleep with the darkness being their warmest blanket.
Before he could began his daily fight when trying to sleep, he would remember how Sarah kissed his lips just before his head touched the pillow, and with certain affection, when remembering that, he would touch his lips with the point of his fingers, remembering the essence of her lips and taste just to quickly throw away all his feelings and emotions to start his mournful fight against the night and his insomnia.

Then, he would let himself fall into the pitiful shadows of his existence, exploring the broken conscience inside which he could not hear anymore.
-Maybe if I take the life of the others- he repeated in his mind- I can get back mine, and so I could get back yours.
And so he did take the live of the others, pushed by the hidden despair his heart tried to ignore, turning the man into a numb beast who couldn't feel anything, anything,
except resentment…

She was his everything, so when she took hers life, she also took his, so in order to recover his life, he would take the lives of the others, trying to recover the blood Sarah drained from her wrist that night.
Standing still in front of the tomb of her beloved one, he began to talk with it, like a shameless man whose pride had been stolen, and soon began to reclaim her actions, like a madman yelling at the air.

-You didn't think in me, didn't you? You didn't care about me, you never worried about me, you never felt anything for me, did you? No you surely didn't, you were selfish, selfish all the time, and I was too blinded by love to see that you just cared about you and your stupid world of death all this time. You didn't care about my love, I did everything for you, I gave you all of my loving, I did everything to give you a good life and this is how you pay me?
Slitting your wrist with a rose I picked up for you?
Well I'm sorry, I didn't know that If I didn't cut the thorns your psycho mind will order you to slit your wrist.
What did I do wrong? Where did I fail? Did I just say something? You could've told me! We could have talked about our problems in order to resolve them Sarah, just like normal people does- and so the man continued to talk and talk, with deep pain he didn't want to admit. He slowly gave into his deep and intense feelings, the why he continued with his life, because after all, no matter how hard he tried, he always knew he would end up sinking in his sorrow, consumed by solitude and contempt.

-What did I do Sarah? Tell me what did I do wrong! - He screamed from the bottom of his lungs, trying hard for not to cry. –you didn't let me apologize Sarah, you were selfish, you never told me about your fears and pain, your hunger for flesh and blood; oh that's right –the man mocked –you wanted to see blood, uh? Well blood you will have, what you want, you get.

And hurried by his hateful impulse he walked in a rush across the orange-painted streets abandoned by people. The dawn was falling and they all wanted to go home, to drink tea and eat some cookies, where life couldn't be wrong.
He searched and searched, like playing a childish game, "hide and seek" and after a few minutes of seeking for a random pray, he found a weak man, lost in the corner of a lonely alley.
As soon as the lost man realized he was not alone, he turned around and saw another man standing in front of him. About to greet him, his companion punched him straight in the face, knocking him down in intense pain.
He threw himself like a fiery beast against his victim, and sitting on his top, began to hit and hit his prey, possessed by his intense blood-thirst.
In a moment the man bludgeoned to death laid on the cold floor, with his attacker scratching his chest with violence and strength, opening deep bleeding wounds until his nails scratched what he was searching for.

He smiled with ecstasy and hurried to rip the heart of the man, standing and running back to the cemetery, leaving the corpse laying and bleeding on the floor.

He ran back to his beloved tomb, with the blood staining his hands and his mind; Hurried by the adrenaline, with his heart beating quick and strong, unlike the ripped heart he carried, he soon arrived to the tombstone he wanted and presumed the dead organ in the air.

-Look Sarah, look! - the man shook the organ in the air- This is what you did to my heart, my poor heart, do you like it? Because I'm beginning to like it. Look at it! I brought it just for you, to give it to you, just as I did with my heart; now, you can also tear this heart! Just as you did with mine.
Consumed by anger and resentment, the bittersweet taste of his life, he threw the heart to the tomb of her beloved, staining its gray with fresh, intense red.
-Take it! I don't want it! Do you also wanna take mine?- he placed his hand on his chest –it's ok, I don't want it neither!

Wrathful and desperate he squeezed his head and scratched his skull, trying to rip his hair.
-What did I do Sarah? What did I fucking do?!- he felt to the floor, uneased by his overwhelming suffering –Why did you took your life away, my life, our life. Don't you remember the good times? Well I do, but I also remember the bad times, and unfortunately, I remember them more than what I remember your words.

He sat in silence for the next hours, staring at the tomb of his deceased wife.
-Why were you so obsessed? You never imagined how happy I could've made you, if only you had appreciated what I did for you, we could've lived happy.
He couldn't understand, just like she could never understand that the love he felt for her was slowly killing him.
-I know, I was stupid, I never tried to understand you as I should have, but I did care for you, could you forgive me? –he asked the tombstone, waiting for an answer that would never be received.
-I understand –the mad man said –you don't want me to talk but to act.
He stood up and searched for something in his pocket.
-Unlike my boring monologues which never were enough for you, this time, I'm not only going to speak them, this time, I'm going to act them-

And with a tiny blade on his hand he slit his wrists, slowly waiting for death to appear and take him away, also, waiting for her to appear, to lift him and clap, because she liked the monologue this time he acted for her.