cerise peony,
I move through the room soundlessly like a ribbon.
The graying curtains hang close, undisturbed, as I learned to expect.
The spiders, like permanent residents, continue their frolicking around my feet.
I find him spread out on the sagging couch, a hand covering his eyes.
The line of his mouth is turned down as always, it nowadays seems.
Yes, it has always been like that since.
Like an illustration in a book, he lies with content serenity, with no care,
but I knew the story behind that picture, that peace.
I always had.
Yet I will not let it continue.
I am ending this story alongside him now.
“You need to get up,” I repeat the long overdue words.
I have lost count.
But I will not lose my will to repeat this tomorrow,
and what comes after that.
He still does not move,
remaining slack in his position.
He does not appear to hear me.
I only manage to catch his chest hitch a breath.
That is all I ask.
And with that, I know he is still fighting.
I can never tell him how much his worth alone is enough.
I can never show him, anyway.
No one can.
Except only him himself, and he will not if he gave up his own battle.
So I rise, and walk to sit on the edge on the couch where his head rests,
to sit beside him and share the space which has been his dungeon since.
to fight with him as he faces the harsh void residing with him in his space,
and to see him overcome the mountain and render his progress alive again.
He will come to his resolution soon.
Literary: Falling Action
I move through the room soundlessly like a ribbon.
The graying curtains hang close, undisturbed, as I learned to expect.
The spiders, like permanent residents, continue their frolicking around my feet.
I find him spread out on the sagging couch, a hand covering his eyes.
The line of his mouth is turned down as always, it nowadays seems.
Yes, it has always been like that since.
Like an illustration in a book, he lies with content serenity, with no care,
but I knew the story behind that picture, that peace.
I always had.
Yet I will not let it continue.
I am ending this story alongside him now.
“You need to get up,” I repeat the long overdue words.
I have lost count.
But I will not lose my will to repeat this tomorrow,
and what comes after that.
He still does not move,
remaining slack in his position.
He does not appear to hear me.
I only manage to catch his chest hitch a breath.
That is all I ask.
And with that, I know he is still fighting.
I can never tell him how much his worth alone is enough.
I can never show him, anyway.
No one can.
Except only him himself, and he will not if he gave up his own battle.
So I rise, and walk to sit on the edge on the couch where his head rests,
to sit beside him and share the space which has been his dungeon since.
to fight with him as he faces the harsh void residing with him in his space,
and to see him overcome the mountain and render his progress alive again.
He will come to his resolution soon.
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