She decided to rip, she decided to tear until every last droplet was gone. The transparent bubbles clouded her vision; seeking only to destroy her memory. The times of triumph, the times of sorrow. The joyous moments of bliss. Snow from February, leaves from November, skies from July. All gone, in a cascade of Technicolor blooms.
The feeling was undeniable and monotonous, yet terrifying. Like a monster cutting into her mind, it's razor sharp teeth piercing silver lining. Tearing the cartilage around her heart. Obstructing her view of herself.
Autumn, still ablaze in her soul decided to heal her wounds. Soothing the ache, repairing the damage, stitching her memories back together. Like purple raindrops falling upon her skull, surpassing her scalp, sinking into her brain, modifying her persona. Attacks upon her psyche, disbanded upon her approval.
In her state of blissful awakening, phoenix's charged her, and she took their challenged head on. An indigo muse guided her, gave her strength, gave her proof of her existence; of herself. The feeling was difficult to describe. Eons of navy skies and glimmering stars awaited her completion.
She had reasons to fret, there were numerous bumps she was scared to iron out, many potential dead ends she was terrified to re-route. Scars that took the decision not to heal upon themselves, and left her to wonder if everything was going okay. If she had a purpose. How she could survive without a being within her form. The misunderstanding in her gut held her in it's arms, embracing her like a small child, petrified of the dark; holding her so closely that every breath could be her least. Lest she forget the silver lining, still in-tact, but ablaze. The fire within rocked her, while the ice in her veins froze her thoughts, allowing her to sleep.
Night would rise, sun would fall, darkness would abandon her, light would take hold, twilight would cease to exist.
Beside her, a token of the past, atop her, comfort, below her, what she took for granted. All she had was in her arms, but she was too blind to see it. In her silent mourning for a love never told, doves were shot mid-flight and jackals with the barrel to their silky feathers. Losing her own time, her light, her locket, her lust for life, her path before her creator. The power she never knew she had.
While many spread venomous lies, and lived in invisible sin, she held herself upright and fought. Though, she lost the battle, she was combative. You can't win if you don't fight to begin with. But, in defeat lies victory. Defeat isn't really defeat, it's an experience. You win more in defeat, than when you triumph victorious. In defeat is victory. In victory is accomplishment, a pay off, a reward, though you lose the will to keep playing; the challenge vanishes. Would you rather win or lose? The two are one in the same. She both won and lost.
With pain in her chest, life gushing from her body, and burden vanishing from her conscience, she let go. For, in defeat is victory, and in victory is defeat. In her last moment, she envisioned her life holder, her power, her subconscious, her guide. A silver fox, licking her wounds, repairing the scar tissue, and cradling her mind. All thought drifted away. Any pain dissipated. Ecstasy took hold, and wasn't about to let go.