With a long breath of ethereal smoke, he breathed in the ineffable memories of her, that burnt on and on in his head. The burning crimson end of his cigarette reminded him of the vigorous flames that’s lit in his veins, reminded him of the beautiful amber eyes that twinkle as she said his name. She had a bright laugh, that one. With hair darker than ravens wings, she’d laugh out loud at his stupid jokes, her hair gleaming, alight in the rusty orange sunset, an image of poetic halcyon. She had this way, this ebullience written in his soul. A beautiful beauty. He breathed out.
“I want her out of my head”
he screamed to himself. He screamed filled with lassitude and confusion.
“Why is she in my head.
Why is she in my head.”
She haunted his soul. She ran aloof in his black and white hallway where he set away his memories, lighting them on fire. A raging, enchanting fire. Her laugh, was written in his head, ringing, out loud, a symphony of dulcet notes, that was absolutely stunning. Her rosy cheeks, always reddening as she smiled at him, with the kindest eyes, a vision of lissome beauty. He was stuck in a replay of perfection that he translated into her. Which terrified him. Terrified his soul. She was either a lagniappe from the gods, or a curse from the depths of hell. She broke his routine of being blithely nonchalant, of being his normal appalling self. Why couldn’t she see his heinous side? He took another breathe of fresh smoke. Or did she? And just didn’t care?
The thoughts kept agonizing him, tormenting his heart.
Why is she in my head?! Why do I care?!
With a long breath that ran burning his lungs, he tried to forget. He tried and tried. But this madness of this beautiful innocent creature had taken over his sanity and she was the only thing in his head, only thing in his head. He tore at his hair wildly.
Why does she make me happy?! Am I not supposed to be forsaken? Hurt?! Despised?! Cornered?! Unloved?! Like always?! Why does she ignore every flaw I have?! Why does she make me smile?!
The pure memory of her ran shivers through his spine, afflicting him, and thrilled him at the same time. The conundrum that pulled him apart perplexed him. A mystery she was, with her broken pieces and dark tones, but this baffling attachment towards her that is generated at his core, defying all the basic deductions he made bewildered him. He wasn’t himself anymore. She was a permanent part of that rang through him, her breath, his treasure. Her smile, his. She lit embers in his heart that he never expected to flame, she was coincidence that translated into a spectrum of incomprehensible emotion and complications within himself that drove him up the wall. She took over his head, she drew a picture of unutterable perfection that he knew he’d never reach if he lost her.
Losing her. Loss. Something he didn’t want to feel. It was unimaginable. He knew he’d break into thousands of tiny shards of hurt and torturous pain if he lost this soul that makes him whole. The reasonable doubt of loss mortified him, he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It shall be a pit of ceaseless fire that burned on and on, that burnt him alive with every memory of her, that makes his heart content, now. It shall devastate him, shall break him, and it make him want to tear himself apart. The thought baffled him, as tremors ran through him.
This paradox, does it have no panacea?
The yearning for her running deep through his veins, contradicted by the thought of losing her that threatened him with lunacy.
“I want her, more than anything in the world, but if I lose her, I’d lose my mind.”
“You fool, Syan, you” he laughed at himself.
“Being in love is madness, I suppose.”