Azucena: The Engagement
Diary Entry #304
If this were to be a monologue of joy, and a love that lasted, the opening line would be a metaphor. The words would flow like freshly bought honey onto freshly baked bread. However they slow, and they quiver, like tea from the pot of a fearful servant. I have come so close to it, running after the horizon in all of it’s color as I felt the grass under my feet pull me closer to the fine line setting me into the daylight.
But when I reach the rising sun, the earth stops, and the stars shine below me under the plane I believed to be a hopeful sphere, an orb of light discovered by science perpetuating us into a bright future. However, that three dimensional star, so close to reaching its potential did not exist. Instead, I could only reach the corner of the square, rigid and disappointing. My theories have been dough-rolled, reducing me to be cut into perfectly shaped cookies for someone else to enjoy. And it is because of you.
Harrison sat at the dining table with me, on the opposite head. Both appearing powerful, but lacking the strength to come close. He has read my poems, but he has not immersed himself into the meaning of my words. A jumbled mess they appeared, comparing myself to moonlight in a world always waiting for tomorrow. He was a stronghold, a fortress of negotiation and alliance. I was a wishing well, watching his soldiers take buckets of water without noticing the stardust blended into it. We were convenient appliances, playing pieces who seemed harmonious in our parents’ game. Drink from my waters, I’ll turn your fort into a home. Never throw in a coin, never wait for benefits not written on the contract. Was I not intriguing enough to make a wish on?
We smile apathetically, no words to exchange between our chapped lips. I pick a fork at my meal, at a loss for an appetite. “Azucena.” He says. “Yes?” I reply, encouragedly taking a bite out of my food as I prepare to listen. “I apologize, but I do not believe this compromise to be fruitful.” I dropped my fork, the metal clanking on the table before resting down on the floor, sinking with the memories and visions she was stitching in her mind.
I walked down the aisle in a white dress, I stepped before him as we shared vows we had grown to mean, doves soared, and people cheered as flower petals flew over them. Our many children played in the fields together, picking dandelions to give one another, telling us that they didn’t want to go home when it was time to go because they loved it so much. I walked into our piano room to watch him compose, sitting on the bench beside him as he sung me the melody he played. That vision was timeless, he lived in it now, and when his hair grayed, back when he was a boy too. In all of the pictures, I was beside him.
This entry did not start with one, but it will end with a metaphor. Our love was a house, we constructed it from the ground. We laid out the blueprint, nailed the wood together, paved the bricks, it seemed complete. But you moved out before we could finish it’s construction, Harrison. And I resent you for it. So now I sit on the floor, breathing in the scent of potential woven into each piece of oak.
I understand your reasons, I did not like you when I met you. My conversation was small, and my joy was fake enough for you to notice. You were everything I was supposed to love, and I despised that truth. I hated your discipline, and your image, I hated how happy you made the enemies I keep close. When you stepped toward me, my feet tugged me back from you, the sheer symbol for everything I stood against. If I let your figure close enough to mine, I would lose my balance and fall for you. Just like I was intended to. Just like I did not want to.
Your presence was a weight on my chest, but it took my breath away, and when I noticed you start to leave I wished you’d come back. I yearned to fight for you, but I respected myself too much to let you in. So when you tell me you wish to be set free, I will be your well. Your desires are my duty, and so you may leave. Perhaps one day I will succumb to the pressure and reel you back in, perhaps one day you will understand me like I tried to make you. Until then, it is best we stay civil, even if I dread it.
“Of course.” I feigned a sympathetic smile. “We may not be married, but that does not imply you are my enemy. I have the same respect for you, my lord. If you ever need someone to confide in, any favor, come to me.” I clasped his hand, my kind eyes sincere when I saw his eyes meet mine.
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