Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place The statement left him baffled, the dream-like state never a consideration. Let go of the memories? Of the vengeance? Of the revenge? “But then –,” he wanted to argue, to keep the sentiments for as long as possible, to cling to the only things he had left. Making new memories had been key here, and he thought he’d been doing well, until – Everything kept fracturing and falling apart. “I cannot let you go.” Or Kiada. Or any of the other ghosts in his sights. Fellow Basiners, ripped asunder. His parents, slain or disappeared. Comrades in arms, cheering over drunken songs until they could no longer, and the battle was upon them. The girl in the rain, cascading showers and rivulets of a world tangled and knotted in his chest. Friends here and there, torn apart by every other disastrous banner. Maybe he couldn’t understand. Maybe he lived on regrets and rue. Maybe he was far greedier than he’d ever realized, longing and yearning for eternities that could never come to fruition. Maybe he’d never tried anything different, and the notions confounded, confused, until he was bent sideways. Her smile didn’t brighten his, too lost and rattled, but he sighed beside her, contemplated the grin. “I remember them all. None will go forgotten.” |
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary
