grey
i’d like to be alone, completely and definitely, undoubtedly, permanently.
i’d like for no living creature to encounter me ever again, not even a distant sound that resembles one, not even a distant memory that reminds me of one.
i’d like to be alone, the only living creature around, until i’m no longer living, until i’m no longer creature, until i’m no longer around.
i’d like for no form to find me ever again. i do not care to see the shapes of stones in mossy river beds, saturated once more in early spring by an unusually wet winter. i do not wish to observe the way roots weave their path through hardened earth like strained stitches through leather-bound journals. i do not want to see waves of tall grass on breezy afternoons, or the rounded petals of roses in amongst a garden’s offerings.
i’d like for no color to grace me ever again. no delicate greens on budding leaves. no tart orange hues of tangerines or poppy flowers. no purples, in post-sunset clouds nor brilliant bruises. no pink of any sort, no golds or reds or blues.
no grey, that hugs the foothills of the mountains in layers of fog. grey, that tickles the tops of the houses in plumes of chimney smoke. grey, that wraps its tail around the edges of corners as its passes through the doorway from one room to the next.
i’d like for nothing to end. i’d like those moments of anguish to flee into the periphery of my domain, disappearing from sight over the horizon and never occurring again.
never again will the stones in the riverbed be warn down into oblivion by the flow that surrounds it. never again will the petals of roses grow limp and drop at my feet. the delicate greens will never shift into yellows, and yellows never into browns. the purple that blankets the mountains will never fade into darkness, the bruises on my skin will never fade into lightness. never again will grey float through my life, then gently float away.
everything breaks my heart. i’d like for nothing to break my heart ever again.