As You Fall Asleep | styles

I | You're just an autumn star away.

| CHAPTER ONE |

Love is a flower destined to wither too soon.

A poison, corruption in the petals, heartbreak at the core. Its soil nurtured too little and the sun shining too late. It watches the other flowers, blooming in glow, growing in light and believes it is alike the rest. It closes its eyes in unison with the field, and one day it doesn't wake.

The night seems long. So long in fact that by the time the clock strikes only midnight, and the stars appear in the autumn sky, I swear I have lived another lifetime entirely.

My heart has not beat the same since I last saw the sun. I live in perpetual night, but my eyes are wide open. My body is but a hollow seed of one's abandonment.

The air holds silence; the type that manifests from the complete static, the stillness of nature. The low tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway of my home is the only thing that reminds me I'm truly here in this moment.

Perhaps it is unwise for a man who cannot sleep to call sleep his worst enemy. Perhaps it's even more foolish for a man who cannot sleep to attempt sleep at all. I am a fool on this night for thinking that dreams would be merciful of me.

As ever, my cigarette stained ceiling is my friend and the crevices paint new pictures for me to envision. The moonlight of the autumn twilight beams down through my open window: it berates me, like I'm a petulant child rebellious with the rush of sugar.

My head rests upon the satin covers of this bed, hands linking with the emptiness beside me—where she used to fall asleep and I would too. They press flat against the quilt, palms down, crumpling in the sheets to find some grip of reality.

But there is none to be found.

It's December 12th—today, that is all I know. A year. Has it only been a year? Ever since those three calamitous words and the splintering of pine as she positioned my heart in the door frame and rattled the apartment floor. My soul still shakes perturbed in its reflection. Time moves too slow.

But I must admit—I hate doing so—that these walls have seen my soul more times than anyone else has and bring me a sense of comfort no living thing could because I know they will not leave me. They hear my cries and consume my anger, yet they don't judge me. They don't make a sound. Perhaps sitting here for eternity wouldn't be so bad.

After all those years of love and wonder, being alone seems like a sin. I didn't think I'd ever be able to inhale the air around me if it didn't linger with her perfume. Even now, the faintest burn of the bland air surrounding me frustrates my senses.

I want to forget, but how can I when she's everywhere I exist?

A thump of my heart. Slow movements of my chest as it rises and falls to the ticks of time. No essence of expression lingers on my face: emotion holds no value when there is no one to share it with. Though I know loved ones are a call away, self-pity drains the vitality I have to do anything. So, I lay here and pretend that I have the motivation to even weep.

A whimper.

My head rolls to the side, staring aimlessly at the empty space of white besides me with melancholic eyes. Ivory space that used to hold so much meaning now blank—as if someone splattered white all over the beautiful masterpiece we painted together and left inklings of colour behind, small reminders of what we used to share.

I should get a new bed. New sheets don't seem to do the trick.

For a moment, a smile twists away at the edges of my lips. For a moment, like a flash of lightening, everything returns to the way it was. Before the world burnt to ash at the hands of my arsonist. For a fraction of a moment, I'm no longer anaesthetised by the anguish that envelops me. And then, heartbreak. A nightmarish remembrance of the crevice her words marred on my skin.

My heart plays host to a descending sorrow, and that is enough for any man to be unworthy of a smile.

The stars twinkle bright and auspicious. On this night, they have bewitched me in all of their glory and untold tales. They complete my eyes with lassitude, and before I know it they're closed.

Like the jester I am, dancing on the line of the dawn, amusing Erebus with my fruitless hope, I shut my eyes and pray that tomorrow my heart will find a reason to beat the same.