People were passing in fast-forward motion, in and out, all around. I took my seat after being shot; I sat in a daze: My heart was on the floor, blood pulsing out and bursting and staining.
I did not expect to find hope; I did not wish nor ask for you to come: But I wanted to believe. You took my chin and pulled it up to your gaze. The world stood still around you, and you became the chimera of my heart, a lovely place to embrace…
Then came the Sheriff with his well-versed gang. They gathered around us there, guns pointed and aimed. We were all trigger-happy, but I was already bleeding out. The Sheriff came to employ the Curse to further his cause: You faded like smoke.
Was it the threat of doubtful glances or the guns, pointed and aimed, that caused me to see through you? As quickly as you you came, you left, and I bent to plug the holes in my heart, but the pressure was too much: I was losing too much living water.
The Curse put a boot on my heart and squished it right there. I fell as dead, air abandoning my chest. Somewhere, you stood watching, but the room was spinning with so many of your faces, a million miles away…
What was left of my mind wandered through the shock. Didn’t the very realization of a false expectation suggest something also real? As the counterfeit naturally assumes the existence of the truth, why had my hope been so unrealistic, too much, or in vain? Hadn’t you promised with the tilt of my chin to protect, to listen, to see?
But something better than the Sheriff came; I wish you could have been there to see Him. Love walked through the door like a naked, dancing parade of holiness; he wore no surprise in his eyes, no frills or pretense: He didn’t need them. He wasted no time in taking a place between the Curse and me. The Sheriff wasted no time in opening fire.
Bullets fell like an acid rain shower; not one hit me: Love took every aim. The Curse tried to wield his ugly magic, demanding payment for the things I’d stained. And no one spoke. Who would dare to touch the Curse?
I thought you might see then, but now I realized that you were like me: We were both broken and bleeding. You were sealed behind walls of insecurity, closed off in a casket of your own crafted fears, and I began to understand: The Curse haunted you as it haunted me.
What was your pain? Who was your betrayer? How long had you been fighting to breathe? Busy, busy, busy — I admit, you covered your injuries better than me. I wondered if you even saw the pool of blood puddling around your own feet, seeping out from beneath those walls…
Love seemed to give the Curse just what he wanted, though I don’t think it was what the Curse had in mind. You should have seen the pleasure on the Sheriff’s face when Love carefully picked up my squished heart and tossed it away! The Curse gobbled it up — finished it off with glee!
And I was still wide-awake; I cannot say that it was painless. I think I screamed your name. But death did not take me nor frighten Love away…
Oh! You should have seen the horror on the Sheriff’s face when Love ripped open his own chest, took his own beating heart, and placed it inside of me!
The Sheriff wailed and disappeared! The gang fled too. The Curse tore himself to shreds…
Love’s blood was now my blood, and the Curse was banished forever in that way.
I’m watching you now, busy chimera — fellow created soul. And I see now why you couldn’t save me: It wasn’t your blood that I needed.
You were always an idol.
Created Chimerasby Amanda Jump, 2008