The Yellow Dress

The world maintains the deep relaxing inhale of breath, followed by the soothing exhale that naturally accompanies. Even then, my mind remains still and motionless, holding only but a little flame deep within. And all at once there comes memories; ghouls dressed in past experience with the intent to draw but a single tear from my eye; intending to subdue my mind with past friends, Love lost, the forsaking of Life, regretted confrontation, the thoughts of the dark side of my soul, a laughable past, a wounded present, and the deep dark unknown that generally stands as a barrier to hope itself: the future. Rushing, churning, floating up and falling down; Regret presides in this state of my mind – the constant pressure of the mind upon itself to 'remember' what was, is, and is to come – yet, despite its greatest efforts, it refuses to self destruct.

As if every thought is a drop of water, here is a waterfall, a great wave that is to topple the highest building within the fortress of Sanity. And here I stand to watch, cheering it on, this cleansing tide that comes to topple me. I see my faults, in this situation and that, rising and rising as memories flash behind closed eyes; with each passing second, a moment of regret is recalled – relived in the facade of imagination – building one on top of another and taking shape. As the drops collide in my mind, they first formed the feet - tender, having never made acquaintance with Earth – then the legs to the hips; and up and up and up, until before me is Her.

And with Her image stained upon the back of my eyelids, the world once more began to inhale – the cold wind rushing past my cheeks and under my ears – and the culmination of my darkest side summed up by the woman in the yellow dress.