light a few candles as the moon hushes the stars, my dear
and crawl beneath the sea of the sheets
sing to me the symphonies of your never ending sorrows

and we can pool together
the memories that haunt your throbbing head
and the tears that drain from mine

there's magic in the never before explored path
from the tips of my fingers (so soft, so delicate)
to the dark, calloused skin of yours
which make love to but a few guitars

but there's a foreboding glisten in your eyes
the mark lefts from the cats that have clawed at your back
tattooed on, a cracked mess of anguish

i'll promise to bandage your wounds
to cool the burning sensation which lashes at your wrists
and the itch of the bugs crawling under the skin at your neck

i'd never let the sickness grow and spread to your heart
i'd protect you from harm
i'll never let you down.

i know that everyone has regrets that they pass off like nothing
but what i didn't know, however,
was just how much i would regret

leaning into your body to giggle at your dumb jokes
tucking my head into your shoulder as you'd make fun of me
falling into your embrace you'd surprise me with

and just how much i would miss
smile
when your eyes met mine
when your skin grazed mine
as your lips crushed mine

i should have known that i should have
kissed you all night
refused sleep until the sun kissed the sky
curled into the warmth of your body

if i had known
that we were set on a clock
that counted down
and expired us,
smothered the embers
which never fully came alight

because i walk along the burning coals
thinking how i never kissed you goodbye.
the embers that burn dimly
still ache, still yearn,
though yours burned out
before i even knew it.

while some seasons introduce beauty,
you bring upon the harsh cold of winter so suddenly
the frigid cold that rapes polar deserts in the night.

unlike the dance of the trees in autumn
when the leaves shake off their burdens,
the whirlwinds of your poisoned ego grasps and chokes away the new leaves

the hardened winter cold saps away the eternal beauty
of the glistening flowers waking in spring
but you twist and churn their stems

it was once the warmth of summer that your eyes greeted mine
emitting the heat which entwined our bodies
like the intense rays of sunshine upon a sandy beach

though i trust nature,
a monster like you,
i do not.

it's just another night of worthless tears
as the haunting Fears creep into my mind,
i'm just Praying they won't succumb to me
as they become our unfortunate reality.

when will you ever understand
that our Imperfections have gotten to the best of us;
there's something better for us Apart,
a decision less painful on the heart.

how did we get here?
this place which has become our perfect hell--
where the lies keep slipping
and my heartstrings are ripping.

a darkness dances
into the crevices
where the squirrels once raised their young
across the gangly branches;
where the birds once perched and sung
introducing the morning sky.
the leaves, which once sheltered the ants
from rain which poured upon their work.

the lively and diverse ecosystem breaks
as poison seeps into it,
winding and choking long abandoned homes.
the tree aches and sways as it succumbs to the crippling pain
and collapses.

termites begin upon their paths
and worms and potato bugs harvest the soil
although it was once so strong,
it still hosts life to hundreds, even thousands.
though through death and destruction,
begins life anew, and a new type of beauty emerges.

You are the ghost that encompasses love; you possess my every thought.*

     Dust layers almost every object throughout each room of this small apartment. Beneath a white sheet, the dark brown, ragged couch is a perfect image of the haunting fear I hold inside.
     In the miserable corner lay your favourite red guitar. It is covered in a blanket of neglect; never again will it feel your calloused fingertips slide across the cracked fret board. Crop circles design the hardwood of where the other furniture once stood.
     I have yet to set foot in this room; it’s been months since the front room has ever felt sunlight. It’s been months since I’ve been able to cross the threshold where our relationship was at its peak, and wipe clean everything that we’ve left behind.
     I don’t want this to disappear, forever. Besides the memories that haunt me, this is all I have left of you. It hurts to look at this room, where we’d snuggle on the once healthy-looking and clean couch, watching our favourite black and white movies. I cannot part myself from this place where the memories still live.
     Our bedroom… the bedroom still holds the faint scent of your cologne that wafts through the house when a small breeze slithers through the window, opened slightly to rid the musty stench. A chamomile candle is lit there too, though it does nothing to sooth my nerves.
     I once took up drinking, but it always ended in passing out. I’d recover consciousness to the overwhelming stench of *****; my hair would be sprawled and stuck in a pool of it. It was a messy ordeal—I couldn’t understand why so many people turned to it to fix their problems. I dropped that immediately.
     Smoking created stress relief for a maximum of ten minutes, which would last me a trip to the grocery store. The smell stained my clothes, my hair, my apartment for what felt like months of cleaning could fix. That was only three weeks after everything collapsed.
     I’m clean, which is probably the least I can say for myself. I couldn’t touch your *****, beer, whiskey, cigarettes, lighters. I had to buy my own; all of your possessions were poison to the touch. I don’t know how you could so easily leave all of your belongings behind for me to look at every single day.
     I lay in bed every night, curled into a tight ball of discomfort in complete darkness. My mind finds it suitable to replay our relationship as a movie as I whimper softly. I am never able to sleep. Dark circles are prominent under my eyes.
     The happiest memories come first. When we moved into our apartment, it was small and *****, much as it looks right now. Happily, we cleaned it together, dancing and singing and giggling about. That was the happiest we’ve ever been. That was right after high school ended, when we were dating for two years. We were harmoniously in love, with no greater differences.
     Then the night we were engaged… You took me out to the garden overlooking Niagara Falls. That was my favourite place to go. The car ride was only twenty minutes from our apartment, but you were so eager to get there faster. The falls glowed a lovely spectrum of colors, while the mist rose above and blended with the explosion of fireworks.
     “Elise, you and I have been together since graduation. All through college, we were the happiest couple anyone knew. We’ve had our ups and downs—that’s a given—but lately, baby, we’ve only been going up. You’re my sweet, gorgeous, lovely girlfriend. I love you so much; I’d like to change that term to fiancée. Will you marry me?”
     A firework exploded as I smiled and jumped into your arms. Ever since you’d hinted this a few months earlier, and I told you that as long as you didn’t follow the cliché and go down on one knee, and you agreed, I knew one day to expect it.
     “You mean you had nothing to do with this firework display?” I grinned, “Of course, Jeremy. Yes, I will marry you!” We shared a long, hard kiss before we went on the rest of our night. I glowed ecstatically as I walked around, very well aware of the small series of diamonds on my ring finger.
     I never expected that night to go as well as it did. I never expected you to become the nightmare you did, either.
     It was a wonderful romance until the occasional fight turned into an every day activity that we participated in. The night you came home late was the first of it, when you came home almost an hour later than you finished work.
     I stood in the kitchen, looking out the front window facing the driveway when you pulled in. Your response was a mumble as you walked right by me, paying me not attention. “Long night, babe?” I had ask. It was a completely innocent question, but you turned down the hallway around the corner by the fridge, and simply replied with a sharp tone, “Yepp. Goin’ to bed.” “I love you.” I called after you. “Mhmm,” you replied.
     Some nights you redeemed yourself. As I sat in the passenger seat of the car, you’d speed through the roadway and talk about yourself. At the restaurant, I’d pick the food off my plate and ate it slowly, but you’d notice and make me laugh softly. It was just an act—I didn’t want to let my mind think that it was bad as it was, and I didn’t want to let you know that the past few nights weren’t as bad as you thought. Then you paid for both of our meals, escorted me to the car, and we took off to the mall.
    Into the most expensive dress store we went, and you bought me a red satin dress that you thought looked great on me. You then found a three-hundred dollar necklace that matched perfectly, and I agreed that it was gorgeous. Of course I loved them—they were beautiful. You still cared enough to buy me these things.
     “There’s that gorgeous smile I fell in love with. I haven’t seen that in a while, babe. It suits you.” You smiled, gazing lovingly into my eyes and gently cupping my face in your hands. I had flinched at your touch at first, but I adjusted to the former comfort of your warmth.
     Our relationship balanced itself on a teeter totter through the last few months. As time went on, it got worse. Every innocent question I’d ask about you would set you off. My words were like a switch that I couldn’t control; you’d either respond blankly, or angry and impatiently. It was hard to tell every time you’d return home from work which man I’d be speaking to.
     I was interrogated, and it usually ended in horror. When I went out for dinner with my friend (who, evidently, was gay) you were so angry—I’ll never forget your reddened face—you shoved me into the bookshelf.    
     Yet still, I loved you all the time, even when you cared nothing for my feelings or listened to what I had to say. You turned selfish. Desperately, I grasped the memories of the good times to replace with the bad. There was always enough of it to cover, but the black cloud still remained.
     I gave you all I had, and all I was.
    
     My best friend Jocelyn from high school had to come over on the first night you left. You got upset because I didn’t have the money to make a good meal, so instead we had to have sandwiches for dinner. It wasn’t my fault—we both knew I couldn’t find a job; you were supporting us both, yet you were okay with that when you asked me to move in with you. “I’m starting to not be able to handle living here, Elise,” you yelled as I watched the door shut after you. I cried so hard that night, because I felt guilty.
     I had dropped nearly thirty pounds the last month before you left. I couldn’t eat, or I’d throw up. My body completely rejected everything I put into it. The nights I had locked myself in the bathrooms were a clear heads up that you could leave without saying a word.
     My best friend, once again came to my rescue. That night I’d developed an eating disorder, Jocelyn, who weighed as much as I did before, carried me effortlessly to my room and laid me in bed.  
     She tried to coax me out of the house, but I couldn’t leave looking the way I did. I knew I looked ghastly, but she said nothing. Where would I go, anyways? She had her own boyfriend and a two year old by that time. I was thankful enough, though, that she was there for me when I needed her the most.
     “I’m going to get you out of here. He’s so bad to you,” She told me once. We were sitting at the dining table while you were at work. “You don’t understand, I love him. I keep thinking that this is just a nightmare—a phase; it’ll go away in time.” I defended both myself and yourself with a sigh. “Look at you, Elise,” she whispered, as if it hurt to say it. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologized. “I can’t help it, I’m just so tired…”
     She’d never spend the night, though she wished to, and I never left with her. She was so fearful of you and what you’d do to her. That was another reason she never called the police; if you knew I didn’t do it, you’d find her. A heavily-built man like yourself was intimidating to anyone you ever knew. That was another advantage in your direction.

     On the second last day, Jocelyn had to come over, with our other good friend Jayme, to help me out of bed. By the time we’d reached the kitchen that morning, you busted through the door, drunken and enraged.
     Your eyes of cold, steel grey focused on mine and I jumped, startled. Angrily, you broke the bridge of support the girls held me in, knocking me to the floor. “You two better get the hell out of here before I call the cops!” You slurred.
     It made no sense if you did because they’d take you away for the abuse that was evident on my thin skin. It didn’t matter anyways.
     Jocelyn screamed, “You’re demonic and you are a failure of a human being.” You nearly knocked her on the side of the head and stormed out again before yelling, “I’m done with you, I hate what you’ve become. You don’t even look like a person anymore.” My girls insisted on staying over, but I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
     The next morning, I walked out into the living room. My eyes were barely open, because I was extremely tired as always. It startled me when I noticed you sitting on the couch, watching me as I walked out of our bedroom. “Sorry.” You mumbled with softness in your eyes that I almost didn’t recognize anymore. You then enveloped me in your arms, which didn’t smell like alcohol, but rather the new-clothes smell. It actually brought some relief—some comfort. “It’s okay,” I couldn’t fight it anymore.
     But you never did learn that you can’t say sorry and expect to be forgiven as easily as you could say one word. We spent that night together but I didn’t smile once. You never once asked about me, apologized specifically for hurting me, yelling at me, anything. All you talked about was yourself.
     “You have to leave, Jeremy. I can’t handle this anymore.” I looked down at the sheet we wrapped ourselves in. Through my hair I saw your wrinkled, scruffy face fall. “You can’t apologize enough. But if you wish to one day come back and treat me the way you did in the beginning, I’ll be waiting with open arms.” Then you got up, and walked out of my life.

     I didn’t think that was the last time I’d see you. Knocks went unanswered at the door for months, but I’d know if it was you. I sense these things.
    
     For now I wait, pace back and forth through this hallway, waiting for you to become a better man. The photograph of us hanging on the wall has yellowed, and as I trail along beside it, I pass over the crumpled collection of clothing with a *** of paper underneath it. My love for you will never die, the way another part of myself has.

The comfort of my home is perhaps the one thing I miss the most. The protection of a grand, two-story house stocked with food of all sorts was replaced by an old, abandoned shack that held the same warmth our house once had. This house only had a fireplace as a source of light and heat.
     One day, my boyfriend, Jeremy, ran into our room in the midst of one of my naps. His dark hair was a mess, his white t-shirt torn and his blue jeans soaking wet. He shook me awake, and before allowing me to sit up and respond, he whispered instructions in my ear.
     “We have to be out of here within three minutes. Food, soap, anything, go, I’ll explain soon, we need to leave, let’s go,” He said, speaking faster than I could understand.      
     I grabbed the comforter that was folded at the foot of the bed, some pants and sweaters for each of us, then booked it down the hall to the bathroom to get soap and toothbrushes, and shuffled downstairs to the kitchen.
    What is happening? He is never this serious... Maybe it’s the drugs speaking; I could **** his stupid brother for doing this to him. What do I use every day, what can’t we live without, how long will this last, what is going on?
     “Jeremy, what is this about?” I screamed to him, wherever he had disappeared off to in the house. My hands were shaking as I tried to collect a series of food, panic driving through my body.
     “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear behind me. I spun and screamed. I dropped the collection of food I had gathered in my arms. He dropped two hiker backpacks at my feet, one landing with a loud thud noise, a heavy object inside. “Don’t ask about that,” he kicked the bag with his boot, then picked up the empty one and held it open to me, “fit everything you can into this bag.”    
     Tears sprung to my eyes as I quietly dropped the necessities from upstairs into the bottom of the empty bag. I collected the food off the floor and threw it in the bag with the mysterious object inside.
     He kissed my forehead gently and he held my face in his hands. A strong smell wafted off his hands. I winced at the sour odour. “What did you—” My voice cracked, tears spilling down my cheeks.
     Jeremy hung his head down, and I saw a tear drop run down his face. “We have to go. I’ll tell you on the way. Just, promise you’ll stay by my side. I need to protect you, I love you, Becky.” He whispered.
     This is the man who has seen me and promised me he would stick with me through everything. I can’t possibly deny him this one thing. But I’m so scared, what has he done…
     The heavily wooded area was a maze that was easy to get lost in. We ran in silence for three kilometres to the tree line. The leaves were almost completely detached from the trees, making it easier to see far deeper, though the same brown-black bark was confusing to separate from each tree. Unfamiliar territory was much harder for me to feel comfortable in, and my stomach was already flipping and turning from the news that my boyfriend would soon tell me.
     Once we had a clear idea of where we were going—a dirt path that looked to be a driveway had met the middle of a thick tree line—our nerves seemed to settle. I was ready to hear whatever he had to tell me, and I knew we could work together. What scared me the most was the seriousness he had instructed me with; that we had to leave the comfort of our home and run away.
     “Okay. You know the Mortimer’s always had something against me, right?” I nodded at the thought. The man who lived four houses away from ours, Josh Mortimer, had a strong dislike for Jeremy. “I was coming out of work today, and Josh and his bulky brother, Dennis, were waiting by my car in the parking lot. They looked pretty ******* about something, so I asked them what was going on, and Dennis grabbed me and pinned me against the car.” Jeremy sat down on a log, trying to catch his breath. His head rested in his hands, avoiding the concern written on my face. “I, uh… A fight broke out…” He rubbed his eyes with his ***** hands, and he looked up at me with a mixture of emotions, from fear, to regret and remorse, and such a deep, looming sadness. “…I killed them…”
     My heart started to skip. His eyes never looked away from mine as we held the stare that lasted for eternity. My knees wobbled and buckled beneath me. The back of my head hit the ground with a loud crack and darkness washed over me.

     I awoke to a wooden, white washed ceiling that was lined with two by fours, and the walls were built of thick tree trunks, stacked horizontally. The floor was similar to the ceiling; various types of trees were cut down into two by fours and laid together.
     I was lying on a *****, scrapped mattress, my hiker backpack sat at my side. Wrapped in the comforter from home and laying in front of a fireplace with the crackling sound brought me some sort of familiarity in this unknown place. The fire produced enough light to illuminate the large room with a lack of furniture. Across from the fireplace was a large window that had no view really; it just faced dozens of trees.
     Gathering some energy, I raised my head, which pounded with pain. Discomfort washed over me, as well as confusion. How did I get here? Where the hell am I? What is this place? It’s eerily frightening. Are we trespassing? It looks as though no one has lived here for years, though. Ugh, what is that smell!
    An unpleasant stench had found its way to me. It smelled like iron—that hard, unique smell that… Wait. I felt the back of my head, where I had hit the ground. My fingers twisted through my matted hair to an oozing cut that stung to touch. I pulled my hand away immediately and looked at it. My stomach flipped again. My fingers were almost dripping with thick crimson. The stench overtook me, causing me to fall back on my injury and immediately cry out in pain.
     Suddenly, an echoing series of tapping noises came from behind me. It was a hollow tapping sound, with a steady beat, like a pencil tapping a desk. The sound travelled through the wall, near the ceiling of the wall, all the way to the doorway.
     “Jeremy?” I whispered. My head spun as I climbed to my feet. The mattress was wedged in a corner, against the wall where the noises were contained, inside the two rooms. The tapping subdued, and summoning up the courage, I walked along the wall for support towards the door. I grasped the wooden stump used as a doorknob, counted to three slowly and turned it open, expecting the worst.
     The light of the fireplace danced against the door and reflected into the room. It was empty, except for the navy blue curtain that framed the window. The curtain was billowing in the wind, as the window was open wide. I crossed the poorly lit room to the window, my footsteps almost silent on the floor, and shut it.
     In the next room over, I heard a slam against the outside wall. I jumped, terrified of what could be in that room. Calm down, I need to calm down. It’s a windy night. Maybe it’s Jeremy trying to scare me. It was awfully unsettling to tell me he killed someone, and disappear without a word…
     I shuffled back to the fire, where I felt the most comfort. My eyes were fixated on the doorknob, as I was just waiting for it to turn itself and the door to creak open, inviting me in. Jeremy would wait on the other side of it; emerge from the darkness with the gun he hid in the bag, the one he told me not to worry about earlier, that gun he shot the Mortimer brothers with.
     I drew my legs towards my chest and started to cry quietly. I’m in a strange place, no idea where I am, or how to get home. My boyfriend is a murderer. He’s on the run. He wants to **** me because he couldn’t not tell me what he did. He would just tell me and **** me to get it over with, and he could live alone forever with the secret in his mind, and no one else will know.
     My mind cleared as my eyes got lost in the pattern of the flames. I checked my watch for the time, but there were about seven more hours until daylight. I was unaware as to how long I had been awake, but my nerves had calmed completely. I needed to go the bathroom.
     There was bound to be an outhouse around the outside of the cabin. I was reluctant at first, but I had to venture out into the darkness. I fished a sweater out of my backpack, and cautiously walked outside.
     The full moon was right above me, breaking through the tree cover to offer some light. Curious of its location, I tiptoed around the corner of the cabin, trying to find a path to the outhouse. Owls perched high above me hooted, and a weird screech echoed throughout the trees far away. I felt my way along the outside of the house, around the other corner, and stopped suddenly where I stood.
     A dark figure swayed through the moonlight, hovering just above the ground. My heart jumped into my throat as I heard the sound of the rope rubbing on the tree branch. Squealing, swaying, dancing in the darkness. I fled, unable to run from whatever was going on. I couldn’t trek out into the forest—I was trapped.
     Tears blinded me as I ran, completely defenceless. I’m going to die. The pounding of my heart was deafening. I need shelter, I need light. I ran inside, the last place I really wanted to go. There is something wrong with this place. An owl’s dark shadow fluttered and silhouetted outside of the cracked window. Need to keep the fire alive..
     I tripped and fell onto the mattress, sliding up against the gate that protected the fire. The gust of wind blanketed the fire momentarily. No! It can’t go out! I held my breath until the fire continued to flicker and pop.
     From behind me there were voices—whispers coming from the broken window. The forest was coming alive and was going to **** me like it killed Jeremy and no one would ever find us.
     A rustling noise occurred from the other side of the wall in the unexplored room, and soon it climbed around the outside walls. I need to hide myself where there are no windows. The doors seemed to lock from the inside. I need to lock myself in a room, somewhere safe, quiet, away from whatever is outside. The screeching continued to gain pitch until it buzzed inside of my head and the pain was excruciating.
     I grabbed the backpack of food and ran to the door that I hadn’t tried to open before. The doorknob didn’t open the first time. The noises got louder. My palms were slippery with sweat as I attempted to turn the **** clockwise and counter-clockwise in quick motions.
     “Open, ******!” I shoved my weight against the door as I turned it. The door gave about an inch and stopped, as if there was something on the other side of it that disabled the door from swinging open any further.
     Suddenly, for the first time since I left home, there was silence. There was no wind blowing through the cracked windows, nothing rustling through the trees, the buzzing noise had stopped. My heartbeat skipped once, as I stared through the crack in the door.
     A soft cry escaped from the other side. Wait, is there someone else here? How did she get in past me? Maybe I am trespassing after all, and this girl is scared because she heard someone screaming in her house.
     The little girl’s cry caught in her throat, and then she coughed. I couldn’t see her at all through the space in the door. “Hello? Can I come in, please?” I pushed the door again, this time it shifted, allowing me full view of the room.
     The only furniture was a dark wooden bed, draped with a black sheet. A young girl, dressed in a white nightgown, with choppy black hair kneeled facing away from me. Her breathing was heavy, and when she heard my voice, she perked up from the slouch on her knees.
     “Who are you?” Her small voice twisted, and she cocked her head to the side and swung it around to look at me. The whites of her wide eyes were yellow, and her face was covered in gashes and black bruises. The front of her dress was soaking with fresh dark, red blood.
     Slowly, I closed the door, and leaned back against it, letting out a few deep breaths. The fire was almost completely burned out, leaving the room extremely dark. The desire for comfort washed over me, so I trudged through the plants that covered the forest floor, towards the hanging body.
     I reached for the rope that was slung tight around Jeremy’s neck, standing on the ***** of my feet. Color was drained from his face, except for the precious blue of his eyes. Using all my strength, the knot came undone on the second pull, and the body dropped to the ground into a collection of bushes. Gently, I unravelled him from the tangled bushes unscathed. Preparing to pull, I wrapped my arms around his forearms and dragged him around the corner of the house. His weight had felt as though it had doubled; I had to stop a few times to catch my breath.
     The sun had just broken the horizon, an orange glow seeping through the trees. Songbirds had started to sing. “Do you hear that? Isn’t it beautiful?” I whispered in Jeremy’s ear, holding his hand in mine. The comforter had kept us both warm while we slept, as the fire was completely burned out when Jeremy and I had come inside in the night. “I like it here; I want to stay forever.” I smiled.