Disenchanted by life.

We walked through the waves, trees, mist, darkness, past stars, distorted branches, decay, running towards an end that we weren't really sure existed. I can't remember how we got here, when we arrived, the time, the day, the month it is supposed to be now. How old am I? How old are you? The lines on my hands seem more pronounced than I remember, they seem softer, stronger. The creases around your mouth and eyes are more engrained. Were they always like that? I hadn't noticed them change. Yet when I look closely, you look no different to the day I first met you. The day we laughed, and smiled, and flirted with danger. I'm sure that day never really ended though, did it?

But what is this place we are in now. It seems familiar but I'm sure I've never been here before. Shards of glass are scattered over the ground, and if you look closely you can see faint raindrops falling from the sky. It is as though the branches were made of glass and were falling like shards of ice all around us. You grab my hand and pull me forwards, towards the waterfall of cut glass. I struggle a little, but not with any real intent, I think I would go wherever you took me. The further we go into the centre, a bright light seems to blind us. I thought it would hurt, but if it does, I can't feel any pain. My vision gets a little blurry and I start to feel the blackness taking over me.

What is that noise? A gentle humming or is it a buzzing, I can't really tell. Perhaps they are birds or is it just the rain. There is no longer any light, but I can still make out forms of trees and shards of glass. I look over at you, we must be lying down. The bare skin of your back is facing me. I press my face into the hollows below your shoulders. You feel the same as always, warm, soft, strong, comforting. I could stay this way forever. Then suddenly there is a shrill, piercing noise that seems to cut through everything. It pierces right through my ears and I close my eyes tightly, as though the tighter I close them the less pain I will feel. It feels as though my head will explode. And then nothing.

How long have we been here? It was as though time stood still, but had it ever really started. Sharp, sparkling, ice cold daggers hang precariously above us. They lie in wait, ready to cut right through my eyes and pierce the skin. Your hand strokes my hair, and I look over at you, smiling, dizzy. It is so cold. Your hands are covered in little bits of glass, bloodied, but still strong. You stroke my cheek and I can feel tiny drops of blood settling like warm pools on my skin. You kiss the redness.

The glass is still falling. It's getting heavier now. I can't explain this feeling, but it's beautiful. You hold my hand tightly, almost crushing it into tiny pieces. Pools of blood surround us. I rest my head against your skin, and smile.