I L L I C I T

In the words of Jared Leto, this must be feeling of the children of a lesser god caught between heaven and hell.

She wasn’t dead. Neither was she about to die, at least there were no signs to show that. Yet even then, Newell proceeded to get a tombstone with her name on it; he even set it up as though she had actually died. Did he wish for her death? Absolutely not! It would be too painful for him to bear. What then was the difference considering she not only wasn’t present but couldn’t be reached as well -but he may have been dead to her. Isn’t this set up the equivalent of the dead trying to communicate with the living? This situation was sad enough for him to grieve but not enough to tear him apart.

Following the laying of the tombstone, at the tombstone he spoke:

“My illicit friend, after a couple of painful weeks, I now accept that as part of the consequences of my actions and words, I have to let you go. Down the stretch, you would have been a great addition to the quality of my life. I remain cognizant of my irresponsibility and arrogance which consistently violated your principles and the very boundaries that kept you safe. Yes, I’d give everything to have you back -including my arrogance- but I have also accepted that I cannot have you! Pain!”

While still at the tombstone site in the well-maintained graveyard, Newell caught himself thinking of the time she asked him, “Why do I feel the need to repent after talking to you?”

Admittedly, he was that much an influencer of unholy confessions. If she had only listened to the wise folks who guaranteed an occurrence where one has to dance with the devil; while you dance with the devil, don’t you dare look at him in the eyes, especially if you are a saint. If the Lord is close to the brokenhearted then in the days of cold trial, the devil is the comforting warmth around every saint who despite every sin, strives to be holy. Newell underneath his breath whispered, “She really was a saint, maybe I’m the devil’s favorite demon. Together were nothing short of illicit!”

As he went on his way, he could see her likeness. It was painful for Newell to still see her. It then occurred to him make the tombstone site a sanctuary. Just like his brothers in the faith would go to a designated holy place in worship of the Unseen being so would he come to this designated place in worship of the memories of the one that got away. This would be his ritual; this would be his faith. Isn’t it said that the more you worship the more you’re not only turned into the image of that which you worship but also the more you become one substance with that very object of worship. He wanted to become one with her.

Just at the completion of this thought, the jealousy of the one he belonged to overtook him. He had overcompensated for that which he had lost. Momentarily, he had lost clarity. He didn’t long to worship her memories anymore. Her beauty faded into something worth leaving in the past, it wouldn’t make his pages of history. With no emotion left, he became the very enemy of the sanctuary he had built. He walked back and set the tombstone on fire. He watched it burn. It burned. It turned dark. It burned. As it burned away, he could hear her say it in her voice, that will forever be beautiful to him, “Illicit one, you did this to yourself!”

Disclaimer: I do not own the image nor rights to the image used above. To access the image and more of it’s kind follow this link https://www.artmajeur.com/en/domballada/artworks/11404664/lost-in-abstract-paint

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