I’d always thought I’d be around to witness the death of everything and everyone, mine with intrigue, but I hardly ever imagined that my demise would be a woman. A beautifully designed one at that.
I’ve known the foreign beauty for quite some years now, yet I was never keen on identifying with her nor had any intent on showing her my true colours, not because of my lack of eloquence nor because I secretly coveted her with inexplicable zeal but rather because she was a ‘Grey’. Greys are true to their colourlessness; Nothing and everything, all in a carefully orchestrated chaos that they’ve created alongside a legion of masks and facades to hide whatever darkness lies within. On most occasions she would wear this pink array of carelessness and false wisdom, admittedly it worked for her but I am in a very pretentious and destructive phase of my life.
And I love the word ‘But’… it stops, it interrupts…
I was high. A funny fact about drugs/alcohol and I is that they allow moi, yours true, to be who I carefully hide as well as think aloud like a twat; They reveal me to ‘Them’.
Unmasked, I asked her in whispers:
Who are you?
If someone asks, rather, if I asked, what would be your answer?
And before I could retract the question that sounded rather pointless, she swiftly pierced me with a calm, collected and genuine answer:
I am death.
I leave and all ends.
It is what it is.
I was lying in bed yet my knees gave out, my heart excitedly skipped around my chest and I kissed her. The last part did not actually happen but in my world I was salvaged by the image.
Most men long to meet their maker and ultimately give up their demons, I offered mine in submission in return for some of hers. Fair Trade. The girl who was death had finally come for me and I’d always imagined the death of everything and everyone. She is Red.
Artwork by : Yasmine Al Adawy