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The difference between tears and bloodtears. |
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They were not crimson at all, those drips of blood hitting the bathwater softly and inking out like disappearing fog. There was no deep red sheen to them; no double meaning, spiritual connotation, or poetic beauty. Even assigning a color to them would betray their essence. They were simply droplets of blood. Nothing more, and nothing less.
Another one fell softly on the surface, sending small ripples out like sonar waves reaching for nothing. The water was taking a pink hue...pink against paled skin,naked without remorse or shame. It was empty, all of it.
Black and white. Blood being all the same, whether drinking it, pushing it through undead veins, or crying it. Shedding it from small swollen eyelids and watching it dilute into cold resolution. This was not a catharsis. It was a necessary function, and nothing more.
Yet, as each tear broke up into the crystal waters, the curiosity grew.
Was there something there? Something carried by those once salt, now iron-tasting emissions? If tears serve to carry away sadness, anger, depression, and base human want of redemption, could those things be seen? Was there a point at which the blood separated from their carriers, and for one brief but fantastic moment everything would become clear, and the hiding would spring from their holes, laden with saucers, teacups, cakes, biscuits, and suddenly unlife became another day in Wonderland...a day in which contentment could come from knowing the state of unknowing?
No...foolish. If indeed these tears were to carry something of value with them, they would not be called blood. They would not be so void...so empty as the one that shed them.
It was a ritual, and that's all. Questioning it was pointless. Silence was a much better treatment. Much better.
Another bloodtear rolled down Squirrel's cheek and hit the water soundlessly, but her eyes were closed, so this time she did not see it.
 Flowers in the Dust Bin · Fri Oct 08, 2004 @ 04:28am · 0 Comments |
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