Heart Shaped Hole

I write this as testament. I know all too well the power of remembrance.

DAY: 268

Together forever.

Guess that was a lie. Like a whole lot of things too good to be true.

Stuff like job security, happiness, low calorie cake. Oh and purpose of being. That’s kind of a big one.

What do you do when the world ends? When good ol’ mother earth cashes in her retirement plan, decides against a party but still goes down in a blaze of glory. Literally. All froth and kerosene glaze. Atmosphere ignition.

How do you dare spend your final moments? Puff out those last few precious breaths? Finally get that face tattoo of your dead pet? RIP Sparky. Outlets are not chew toys…

Maybe you put the finishing touches to your sprawling robot romance epic no soul will ever get to emblazon with a 1 star review?

Drink, drugs and debauchery? Or do you hold them close?

Does it even matter? Whatever you punctuate the summation of your life with, it will be cut short.

All that’s left is to count it down. Atomic guillotine. No need for fireworks… They all pale to the big one anyway.

268 days since global dark. How many left? Will the scales balance? Bit of ironic symmetry, forceful order for the thoroughly chaotic end days. Because the apocalypse sure is funnier than I expected. A pretty picture all in red. Painted mad. I see a broken heart in the bloodstains.

You were my world. How am I supposed to care about what’s left... When it's not you?

I still hold you close. My keepsake. Tight about my neck. What am I actually holding onto it for? To keep me sane? Steal me away from basking in petrified numbness…Reassurance that I didn't, couldn't forget you?

Like one day we're just going to run into each other, cosmic collision bursting with light, those warm smile eyes… Of course I’ve still got it! You and me baby. What else? Remember the good times? We really should get back to those. Why don't we? Why don't we just pick up where we left off?

PICK YOU UP AT 8? SEE YOU THERE SWEET CHEEKS.

Sure things are a bit messy. But you'll get used to it. Don't have much of a choice...

What do you mean that's not how it works?

The world ended. Nothing's how it should be. Why can't I get this? This relief above the rot. Suffering isn't mine alone, soaking into the skin, into everything. Why am I consumed by grief’s great beast, trapped in a tiny coffin heart. Just a few minutes. Please. A breath.

Dead memories float to the surface. I want to force them under.

I took it. Sat cold on your skin. Didn't make sense for it to burn with you.

What then? When you tell me you have to stay gone? Over and over, in screams and whisper, the fool betrayed by dream.

You don't even sound like you anymore. Taunted by some half remembered version that's just as cruel but not as smart.

What else is there but give it back, give it all back, all the good and the beautiful pain. Undo it all so that I might close my eyes without regret.

Is it better to be nothing than haunted? I think of throwing the locket away and saying goodbye all the damn time. I just can't call it quits. You're still my pain. Always will be.

Our picture hasn't faded you know. That annoys me. Like I don't get the luxury of forgetting your face.

DAY: 271

Finally raided Sunset Village. Remember you were thinking of putting your dad in there? Too much beige, ugly paint peeling back an uglier rot. Glad neither of our parents got to see this. Human misery festers in ruin. It is a small mercy not to know such depths.

Haul was solid. Plenty of cans. Pork AND beans!?! Luxury of luxuries. Oh I guess I cook now. After-life skills! Not that you could ever call the culinary sins committed in my name cooking. But needs must. And it's hard to mess up one pot wonders. Fire and cast iron. Very caveman. Evolution come full circle.

Saw a summer dress you'd like. Happy family of mannequins, eternal painted smile. Almost like they're laughing. Untouched perfection held pristine in a window pane. Window to what could have been.

Fell asleep to the crackle of the geiger counter. The horror of new comforts.

DAY: 272

I'm so goddamn angry at you for leaving. How could you? How could you do that to me? You broke our promise. Broke me. I don't think I told you I love you enough. Maybe if I did you'd have stuck around. Was I a burden? Could you not bare to be with me?

We didn't have to stay together. I wouldn't have forced you. You just shouldn't've left the way you did.

Sorry.

DAY: 275

Sky still burns. That's one for the poets.

There's some guy sniffing around. First I’ve seen in weeks, wants to barter for my stuff. Well he's in for a herculean task. Oh the treasures I've amassed, such wonders assured to widen eyes and leave mouths agape.

No sir, you cannot have the old newspaper I use to wipe my ass. Sure the melted action figures are fair game. Be gentle with them. They have seen too much.

Get the feeling that if I refuse, this vulture will just pick my carcass anyway.

It's honestly surreal. Who's in a rush to return to a trade economy? Old habits of a salary man I suppose, with an ill fitting suit to match.

There’s got to be better things to run back to, resurrect? How can envy not have died? I assure you my own piece of scorched earth is not greener. Ash grey is all there is.

LIGHT THE MATCH AND SAY BYE BYE TO BEFORE - Remember that concert? You couldn’t speak for days, and I hurt my back? You’d say over and over it was worth it while I was laid up on the couch. Or rather wouldn’t say it…

See? The apocalypse sucks. That’s just the type of joke you’d hit me for, to think I miss that.

Did we lose the ticket stubs in the move? Next time I’m on a salvage run I’m gonna try and find a Lords of Hellfire t-shirt. Only this one won’t smell like you.

DAY: 280

Saw him again. Forced his way into my eye line.

Listen to this. This what he said to me. Slithered out from his greased gullet.

"The only thing that matters is the heart. What it values. That is the currency of the new world my friend. And I want my heart to be full."

I can’t get this out of my head. Freak.

Sold him a few scraps, got some batteries. But I could see what he really wanted. Through that sunken stare locked at my throat. Like all he ever wanted was to cut it.

I think he's been watching me. Heard a few noises a while back. Thought it could be wild dogs. Guess I was half right.

DAY: 283

He’s going to try to take you. Not a chance in hell I’ll let him.

Death grip on steel heart. Sounds like one of those old fever dream movies you’d stumble on at 2 am.

I’ve rigged a few traps. Gone full survivalist. Guess I’ve got a few hours to turn these patchy whiskers into an untamed beard capable of supporting tiny life. I think he’s got a rifle, bolt action, long range. Can’t give him the chance to take a shot.

1 DAY: Closer

Think he missed the important bits. Guns are just, so loud. You forget that when everything is hollow.

Feel like I’m running out of blood. Cant quite dig the bullet out. Don’t want to risk running. Opening the wound or inviting more.

It’s pooling now. Almost enough for reflection…

Dying doesn't look like you. I thought it would. Thought that as I get nearer I would see you bathed in light, soft glow burning through delicate features, calling me forward. Filling me.

How I want to see you. Be with you.

Just one last sunset, a chance to feel the warmth before it sinks below the horizon, is interned with restful bones.

Hold me in your vision again.