A Melancholy Heart

She walks the halls, a dauntless figure her raven hair like a feathered veil.
This place suites her, the sadness within her is reflected in the house's very stone foundation. I cannot remember when she first arrived here, but I feel that she is mine. Copyrighted © 2018

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1. A Melancholy Heart

She walks the halls, a dauntless figure her raven hair like a feathered veil.

This place suites her, the sadness within her is reflected in the house's very stone foundation. I cannot remember when she first arrived here, but I feel that she is mine.

Whether she is Death, here to take my soul with a fatal kiss, I cannot tell but if it will cure her of the disconsolate look in her eyes then let it be so. This depressive nature, I can feel it, feel it ensnaring me, her torment is my own. I wish for her to be mine. I want her, oh how I want her but I cannot take it; This suffering is maddening.

I watch her, I see her wandering the halls of my house, each movement more painful than the last. Why does she do this to me? She is so distant, the closest I can come is the shadow she casts in my direction. Why my love, why so bitter and beguiling?

Is it him, is it that man? Does she still think of that wretched man? Do I stand in the shadow of a memory? No, she is mine and mine alone, or must I kill the very memory of a dead man? I sit at the table for dinner and watch as she sits there, staring at the wine glass with those eyes, those tortured eyes. I bid her eat, my voice but an echo that she ignores. I see her there, her mouth is moving she speaks but not to me. She is speaking of that man once again. Her tortured eyes are filled with tears. I sit up in an abrupt manner and leave her side, the chill of her coldness making me feel weary with despair. Why, why cannot I not have her? She should belong to me. I see her standing in the garden, she is a thorn among roses. I watch her from the glass window, she will not even glance at me. She behaves like my prisoner and yet I have not the one thing I desire. I can never truly have her, that man, her heart is with him still. The bitter roses feast on her despairing tears. I fall to my knees tormented by her suffering. She ignores my letters of love, my words of praise are meaningless. There is no healing her, no ending her pain. She wanders the halls when it rains, a wilting rose in her hand. I envy the rose, I envy the gaze she gives it, I long for her sad eyes. I wish for her to look at me and nothing else. She sits staring out the window on sunny days, a teacup in her hands. She drinks from it. I envy the cup that she presses so close to her lips. I long for her touch. This woman haunts me, there is no escaping her. I am imprisoned by her torment. She will not accept my love. Why can I not just make her mine? We sit by the fire in the drawing room having tea, she won’t speak nor will she play the piano. I am certain that she once loved to play the piano but now the only thing that touches the black and white keys is the dust. She sits there, so still like a lovely marble statue. I toss my tea cup against the wall I stand in front of her with pleading eyes.

I beg for her to stop this torment. Why can she not be happy with me? Why must her eyes hurt my soul. Tears cascade down her pale cheeks and she speaks no words.

Once again she speaks of that man, that dead man. I realize there is still no place for me in her sad heart. All I can do is watch and love her. My sad love, why can you not be mine? I do all I can, but nothing is enough she still cries and I still feel the awful pain.

The agonizing pain of my love. I see her in the garden once more, snow covers her raven hair. She cuts the heads off the roses, one by one they fall. My melancholic heart hurts as I see the sorrow in her shaking hands. My love falls to her knees and weeps. I see now she does not belong in this world. Everything around her just causes more pain. I hate this world, I hate all of it, everything. It just hurts her beyond repair. It causes her sorrow. She is a caged bird, ensnared by her own painful emotions. It is that man, he hurt her and he holds her prisoner and there is no way for me to free her from this prison.

I lay in bed in the dark to hear a shatter that wakes me with a start. I turn to find her no longer by my side. I stumble around in the darkness till I finally find the door, I open it to see the halls blissfully lit with candle light. Where is she, I look down to see a shattered vase and drops of blood on the stone ground? I hurry through the halls looking for her. I find no trace, but somehow I end up in front of a mystery door.

A hideous door. It’s very frame and out of place bright colors repel me.

It’s red paint like that of blood. How could I have not seen this door before?

Or have I? Memories like flashes of lighting shoot through my mind.

I grab my head in agony and grasp the knob. I open the door and look in shock to see a wretched sight, my beloved in the closet hanging by a condemning necklace.

I back away, how had this come to pass how could she do this? Was it him?

Had he driven her to do this? That horrible man she mentions as if I cannot hear?

Why, why. My love, my beautiful despairing love. Is this what you wanted, to escape me? It must be so, look how she smiles now, see her lifeless lips give a smile that she had never once given me in life. I wrap my arms around her corpse as I weep for her.

Still even now in her moment of joy I cannot have her, she is parted from me.

But what is this, I feel her arms around me now. She is holding me.

I look up and her smile remains. Does she yet live, no we are both dead?

I finally recall the truth, I am that man she speaks to, I am the man of memory and I died. I was the one who tormented my love, twas not she that tormented me.

Her heart had all along been mine.

 

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