A Story Untold

I believe that I know how this story goes. I’ve heard it before somewhere, or perhaps I have even lived it. They were young lovers of the most innocent sort, entwined in the pearly ribbons of expectation and social correctness. He was star-crossed and she was the night sky...addicting and horrifying and maddening. Her touch begged to be filled with warmth, yet she spoke only the language of the lonely. Light exposes the dark for what it truly is: emptiness. He’d come to her in the night...on the mossy rooftop beneath glossy leaves and the moon’s pale countenance. She wore her darkness so that one could scarcely depict her slouched figure near the edge, but he knew where she would be. “Hello”, she’d whisper, and he would sit down next to her against the cold brick wall. They didn’t speak...the wind and the blackness spoke for them. Liquor stained her lips and she smelled of poison as she laughed to herself, wondering why it is that the righteous always seek to redeem the wicked. She’d let him try. She admired him for it, though she knew that there would be no true relief. He would kiss her gently and carefully...always carefully...as if she would crack at any moment. He would hold her as Romeo help Juliet’s cold, lifeless body...desperate in faith that her true vibrance would return if only he remained... and he’d trace the dark spaces between the constellations on her skin. He was generous and pure, and she was a poet living a tragedy. She bore wild and dangerous and infinite things in weary admiration, but he terrified her. As the night draws in on itself when morning breaches the horizon, so she fled faraway into the black forest. Demons tore at her clothes and ripped through her silvery locks, yet she kept running. She ran through smoke that left her confused and stumbling along the twisting wooded pathway and words that weaved through her mind, smothering her reality in their inky fantasy. She ran and ran until she collapsed to the earth in utter exhaustion… tear-stained and blurry eyed. She thought about him them, and wondered if he ever thought about her. Remembrance is all that is left there in those hollow hearts that were once so full of sweet innocence. Ah yes, I do believe that I know this one...a story untold.