Now she looks at me like I’d be gone for good. I’m thinking about life, and the things I should have done and the things I did but shouldn’t have. For example, like when I stole a woman’s last hope– her daughter; my once upon a time love. The goddess warned me.
Like when I came to the house of doom, asked for the hands of a demon, and pleaded to be with a witch. The grey-haired senile woman told me about the end of a man whose ears are blocked, I wouldn’t listen; I… Love… You. That night, the goddess warned me.
Like when I saw you put some powder in my plate. You will never want me dead, I said. Sitting on a strange man’s laps, you mocked the nights we spent together and the promises I made to your mother. “I will never leave her, Mama.” You laughed. I should have listened to the whispers, I should have saved myself. The goddess warned me.
I thought whatever would kill should at least be sweet. I tasted you, Chi, and bitter isn’t the word to describe what kills. I hope you feel this when you read this. The goddess warned me.
Today, I’m trying to stay. I’m fighting to go back to the beginning of my doom. You betrayed a dying man. So, I’ll tell the cloud and the sun and the stars and the moon– everything that’s in the sky– for when I first saw you, I saw the brightest things.
“When will you die? How long do you have left?” she asked, sadly. No, eagerly. This is what you get for rejecting the whispers of the night.
“Please let me have one last straw of sadness,” I said, “Please, give me one more night.”
Hmmmmmm! Let me have one last straw of sadness, please.