I thought you might be there when I parted the bushes,
stepping into our bygone kingdom.

Remember when we were no taller than the rose bushes by the lake, we would run by the shining water until the sky turned peach. We sat in the muddy grass, not caring about our clothes, and you made me necklaces out of weeds and roses.
And when we danced around like clowns in some vivid circus for an empty crowd, I stumbled on the slippery ***** and fell into the water.
Confess I will how we were little enough to trust the serene waves with our lives for we had come to adore them by then.
It was then that I first thought that perhaps the beloved lake that we drew on our canvases and carried along in our dreams, merely ached for the taste of our flesh.
Choking in the calm tides I no longer cared to see the world where mermaids lived nor dive down to the dark cave to meet the old wise fish; I just wanted to get out.
It broke like that- a little girl’s fantasy that was almost invincible. I saw the fairies and tales drown before I did, I saw the glimpse of lake opening its beautiful mouth and swallowing them out of my sight; then all I could do was go along.
Remember when you threw in a branch and begged me to hold on. I clung to my last hope, to you, as, slowly, you pulled me closer to ground.
Remember when suddenly the stick broke into twins and I gave out a sharp cry- one last notion of a falling lamb. It was just like the tales we used to live; you a prince with an iron sword- plucked from a tree- slaying a dragon to save the imprisoned me. But now the weapon was broken and dragon was nowhere to be seen.
Your eyes glistened like moon melting over an ocean as my cries faded away into my congested lungs.

You knew it then and I did too that the lake wasn’t the dragon you ought to fight, that it was my despair that roared in my blood. But we knew not what to do for never had we lived a tale with the victim and the villain dwelling in one being.
I thought I heard you scream, saying that the embracing water wasn’t the dungeon, that it was my own body- my numb arms and scared legs- refusing to fight the defeat. I thought I heard you scream for me to not lose hope.
How I wished to shout.
How I wished to say you knew nothing about water squeezing your ribs and nibbling your lungs away; how the sensation of being gnawed away by the current was a story we couldn’t share; how when you drowned, all you could ever do was go on.
How I wished to scream but my voice hid herself into the deepest caves of my throat and my lips parted only to spit and gulp in water.

But then I felt a hand- your hand- and then an arm- your arm- and I saw hope- your face- and I was pulled out of the dungeon I was about to call my home.
You brought me out, placed me under the tree whose trunk was engraved with our names and you called on to me until the water above me focused itself into summer sky, the waves incinerated into the warm air and my mind stopped whirling.
I felt razer-blades down my throat, my tongue sewed to my skin, my lips busy feeling the lovely air; yet still a voice I knew came out my mouth like a shy gust of wind and you got it. You held on to my two words and promised to never let go.
And then we laughed. Laughed like we'd done before at the irony of it all because that was what you and I did, laughed our aches away. But I remember your arms holding me tight even as we joked about our fears; I remember the alarm in your nerves, the grip of your fingers around mine as if I would sublime away into the thin air if you let go.

Remember when we were taller than the rose bushes by the lake, we would climb up the arid tree carved with our names and mold our stories and worlds until the sky turned grey.
We sat on the reluctant branches and talked about ironic lands where no future, no past existed; where memories were never lost and regrets never returned.
You plucked out a red rose and gave it to me with a pink smile. I tied it to a low-hanging branch with a strand of grass as a token of our lives.
Each day you gave me a blushing beauty and I hung it along with its long-ebbed lovers. We danced under the hanging corpses that symbolized our lives until our feet ached and our stomachs growled. We then ate up our foods and talked our fables.
Remember when we looked at each other’s reflections in the lake and smiled. Remember when you asked me if I loved myself and I, puzzled, asked you if my loving you wasn’t enough.

Remember when you shook your head and I turned red; not the red you often saw when you stroked my hair or gave me a flower. The red that you could have seen had you been under the water that day; the red that flowed in my veins, that ruled the very corners of my being- the red that I loved more than myself, more than you.
Remember when you held my hand but I ****** it away. I got up and yelled in the air as you listened in silence. You averred your apology but simply to calm me down for the fire on my face freaked you out. You turned around to pluck a rose but the bushes were grey and the only roses left were the bald buds hanging on the tree above us.
You asked me to dance but I denied, you sighed in defeat but I saw pity- remorse for the poor girl who was stuck inside her skin- you smiled with love but I saw pride- reminding me how I owed you my life- you reached out your hand to tuck a strand behind my ear but I only saw a snake slithering to me- to pull me out of the cell I had come to love, to strangle me up along with the flowers that you killed for me and watch me wither away, petal by petal.

You hoped for me, I only saw despair.

And I wish I could use that as an excuse for the painting that I drew but the water that splashed around me was unmistakably black and I could help not but think it was prettier than all the hues I had ever blended.
Your cries for help danced everywhere and I thought I saw myself scream and break a branch to save you from the starving dragon, as you once had saved me. I thought I held on to my weapon and hope and dragged you out of the prison  onto the grass. I thought I clung to you under the tree, sobbing, telling you I was sorry; that I never meant to drown you, I just meant to push you away for you scared me with your hope.
I thought I heard your faint voice saying the exact words that I had whispered with my feeble voice, “never go.”
And I took that as a sign of forgiveness and I smiled and I thought I saw you smile, too.

I thought I saw you smile.
I thought I saw you smile.

But I only saw the lake. Its disturbed surface going back to peaceful sleep. I only saw the sky turning red as the last remnants of our sun drained away.
And when I moved closer, I could still see your vivid image smiling on- no, in- the water but your eyes were closed and your skin was pink and glossy; you made no sound.

You looked like a freshly plucked rose.

If you could look back you would see the faint image of a stranger that I had become.
I still search for you in the water that’s the same vacant color as you. Your smell lingers in every rose about me. I can still hear you telling me I’m the dragon; and I know that if I could go back to the day you wilted away, I would only stand by the shore and watch you go because I’d not know what to do- we never imagined a tale about the dragon playing the hero.
Every cracking stem reminds me of my unused sword. Every break of dawn comes uninvited. Every empty mirror takes me back to your face under the lake, every silent night reminds me of the empty tales we dreamed.
How tragic that the dragon imprisoned in its own self failed to play the hero. How lovely that once upon a time I tried to fight my despair and I was saved, and once upon a time I chose to let go.

I part the bushes, stepping into my bygone kingdom,
I hope to find me there.