ice has taken root in my stomach, pulling me down with every step

whispers, phantoms all around me, begging me to help them

i whisper back, it's alright. i will guide you.

this satisfies their fears and they fade back into the mist, faces morphing into each other until there is nothing recognizably human left

how long can this go on?

every foot forward, every breath i take into my battered body

they all feel so heavy.

i know it is almost the end of this road

soon, relief will be upon me

a sanctuary of soothing, healing, warm gold is on the horizon

yet my skin stings, scarlet soaking my ragged clothes

i've slipped somewhere along the way

despite all my precautions, all my vows to spread my wings and be a guiding light to the world

somehow, i am broken.

perhaps this was what was always meant to be

bloody, stained rags

tattered feathers

ghostly hands reaching around me, pulling me down gently

i don't know if it was the prayer or the sudden burning in my arm that brought me back.

my own words echo back to me, in a different voice yet the same tone

it's alright. i will guide you.

it sends a shiver down my spine

why am i so uneasy at hearing the same things i freely say?

perhaps it is because if the roles were reversed, i would still be unable to tell which one i was meant to play.

the ice grows in my chest, wrapping my heart with snowy terror. 

once, blood had melted it

but now, the temperature has dropped, and my veins begin to slow

red lines (chalk? blood? wax?) adorn my body, tearing at my fingertips, my wrists, my shins

the ground beneath me is no longer ground (maybe it never was)

not ice, but glass

if my heart were still beating, it would quicken in dread

the figure in my reflection is not me.

it looks like me, and like those i have loved

the glassmaker

the lady in green

the traitor king

the phoenix

and a new face amongst the ever-shifting many

i have no name to put to it, no title, no alias

it is yours that speaks to me in such a gut-twisting way

it's alright. i love you

but those words echo and distort, and i know they cannot be real

just a dream.

a trick of the mist. 

i fight the urge to retch, stumbling to my knees

dimly, the memories fade back to me

a whole year of love, of life

of victory

it is tempting, and a flash of gold up ahead reminds me of the future

and yet...

i want nothing more than to lay here forever

able to see the faces of my past, forever locked into the smiles i've held onto

a closet full of skeletons, each endowed with a beating, monstrous heart

they each bear one of my ribs, like the proverbial settlers of Eden

i shake away the thought and close my eyes

the echo repeats words i know are not mine, not from this voice

i'm here.

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