drabble thingy] Candles
Rating: Ugh... PG-15 or something? doesn't really matter anyway
Warning: slight mentions of sex and drugs
A/N: I also got this random prompt "what you don't want to remember" and so this came into being...
Candle lights flicker on the edges of my mind. A soft voice, merely a whisper, embraces me when I close my eyes. Touches, caresses almost un-existent. They’re just a memory, but not one I want to remember. All the important moments, the small ones and the big ones. The first time I saw you and I was entranced by that smug smile. The first time we kissed, how close you held me. The girlish roses waiting for me on the table, when you invited me over for dinner and we ended up sleeping together in a dim room filled with the almost annoyingly cliché aroma of vanilla candles. You had it all planned out, whispering words of love and desire at the same time. I held you so dear and I still do, but you left me with a hole inside my heart, making it impossible for me to forget. I was young and naïve when I believed your words of ‘forever’ – when I wanted to believe them. Do you remember how it felt when we made love? I thought that you would see your promises through, but you haven’t. Did you ever truly love me – a question I can never know for sure, but I want to believe that you did. I have wished so long for just one more day, one more night to share heart-felt feelings, to whisper words of affection in each other’s hair like we used to. I have long since stopped wishing, when I finally understood that you wouldn’t come back, not even for one night, not even to try and make things right. And now, I’m left with only the memory of a candle in the dark, as I fall asleep in your arms for the first night of many, but also the last. I should have known this would have happened sooner or later, but I didn’t want to see it – didn’t dare to accept it. You were playing with ‘forever’ when you held that needle between your fingers, when you closed your eyes and forgot how it felt to be sober. You forgot to love me, when you leant back and waited those moments before you’d be carried away by intoxication. You forgot to love me, even as in the end we shared a needle and a bed and I didn’t know anymore where my own body began and ended. I desperately wanted to be loved again, wanted to feel what you felt and understand, but I didn’t. I don’t want to remember how it felt that night. I don’t want to remember the coldness when I woke up, but neither do I want to remember the warmth spreading through me the first night, the candles around us a romantic attempt to woo me. It started with candles and ended with them when they prepared the concoction that would finally take you away further than you might have wanted, even further from me with no chance to make it right ever again. Every year I light a candle, just to blow it out seconds after it’s lit. If only I could have done that all those nights ago, you would still have woken up beside me.