It was half past six and my husband had just shut his tender eyes to the batting sound of Miami’s local news anchor. Succumbed to the night angels, there was no creek or crash that would wake him. I gently lift his heavy head from my lap, and let him rest atop a pillow instead. My doctor told me that I was dying. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised of the fate I had known for years. Time is the reincarnation of the devil on earth. Ticking seconds, minutes and hours while we unknowingly pass the anniversary of our death every single year.
I poured myself a glass of champagne and walked down to the coast for the last time. Over many years I managed to brainwash myself into a lifeless doll. Like any little toy, I no longer moved, I didn’t eat, and I didn’t talk. It was an inescapable depression that was, and still is unbearably irreversible. There are parts of my body that I have partially sewn back together but over all, I live in a bloody corpse full of holes.
For I, all darkness and disaster had already sprung. Awaiting me are new mornings lifted by a honey kissed sun. Brighter than any diamond, she began to set over the coast. The sea is a cerulean-blue gown. In the darkness of each thundering night, every one of my tears fell from the sky and filled my crystal glass with noting richer than my empty love. Tonight, the sky coated itself in a pink silk. My toes rest covered by natures grains of golden sugar. I let my champagne riches fall, and shards of crystal sprinkled over the shore. Just like the sharp tip of your heart, they waited to cut anyone who got too close. I watch closely as the crystal becomes one with the waves, as she pulls each shard away from me. The sky shifted to purple and forth came the night. This time I didn’t shed a tear. There was just a wave, and a final goodbye.