Beloved

This is not where I want to be.
I am much too close, and I want to flee,
away from the weight of the memory tree.

The ground swirls about at my feet, like dust. It clings to my bare feet and coalesces. I cannot step lightly. My feet drag through the slush, reluctant.

I don't want to be here. There's too much sound. There's a roaring in my ears. The sound of my heart is faint and and hard and beyond my senses. My mouth and words have all but turned to dust, and my bones creak with wear.

In my hands, the deftest globe. My only source of illumination in this grey, unaltered place. It pulses with memory, and draws me closer to the tree. I want to fight back, but I am lost. My breath falters. The urge to fall to my knees is strong, but I carry on.

Look up. It's astonishing, how close I am. I can feel the branches weighing down above my head. I feel nothing but this mission now. It pulses, and thoughts shift across its' surface. An iridescent bubble of life. I am mesmerised, watching our creation.

With my head bowed, I don't see, but feel the branch pierce through my heart. My struggles cease. I look down. The sphere is spared, though my heart not. It is of no matter, but great consequence.

I lift the globe gently. It faces me now, as you never did. The colour has faded, along with my strength. I stare into the sphere, and slowly, for the last time, I see your face. You stare into my eyes, unreadable. I finally feel the pain.

All around me, I see stars, but they are merely other memories. They all glow. You glow. As I fade, the lights get stronger. I close my eyes. I am consumed.