Precarious fingers, pale and lighter than the weight they used to bear, but quite heavier than a feather

Brush the engraven marbled scripture meticulously, peering eyes piecing together letters unknown to form words that stick out like strangers

Cold lips murmur hoarse pronunciations, awkward and stiff like those of aged fossils

But like fossils, there comes an odd beauty in the way they form to create an everlasting impression

Like a deaf man attempting to speak for the first time, slow and foreign to the ears of those listening in

But just as admirable even so in knowing they come with courage and determination

And as the letters begin to piece together upon those lifeless lips, reels of film bombard the mind, casting visions of a forgotten lost life

It then becomes apparent and striking, quaint even, in a sense (that is, depending on the poor soul reading the scripture)

A lost life, forsaken by calamity

Calamity?

Impossible

With the mindset the once ever-breathing soul contained, calamity was never apparent

Purposeful actions reigned that poor soul and directed-

No

Forced the hands to pull the lever of the guillotine; forced the ears to listen to the sliced air above; forced the head to be bound by nothing but pure willingness

And for what?

A lover who dismissed the idea of marriage?

A lover whose tastes were far too modest?

No

A lover whose affections were silenced by the threat of the guillotine, a sentence unheard of

A crippling cruelty contorting the perspective of that lover, cleansing their mind of any and all sins

A retort of society unwilling to welcome variety and shoving the idea straight to the prisons

For it was society that contorted the lover’s perspective into toxic misbehavior, society who changed the lover entirely

Now those lively eyes were more than likely gazing down women, fancying them in false behavior in their bonnets and baskets

A great shame for a life to behead itself out of hurt, but not greater than the lack of acception from society

Even the name engraved upon worn marble – which was inaccurate and mocking to the soul reminded – would never be more false than the smiling faces of such cruel society

Advertisements