Time Is A Bastard

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I stood before Time, longing for Eternity. All those I loved watched, rejoicing at me, not with.

This wedding, a grave; my white dress a noose.

"God, you are beautiful," he smiled, cunning and sharp. My stomach churned at the sight, the pretense of kindness. I'd blushed often at his lustful gaze. My heart quickened, but for different reasons.

I longed to find my love, but he would never come to this. How? Why? I shattered the only good heart I'd found. This is my burden, my punishment. I'll take it on the chin. But still, my eyes longed to anchor to his.

"You hear me?" His tone was subtle but ice. Only for my ears, nobody knew his cruelty.

"I said you are beautiful."

I fawned, and I loathed myself for it. Trembled in rage with my own stupid body. Yet frustration only ever produced changelessness.

"Thank you," I managed.

You dumb filth, you idiot, you are nothing. Nothing. You deserve this hell, this pain. I beat myself with words, hoping to be numbed enough before he did the same. It hurts less if I say it first.

A half-smile crossed his face, a painted picture for show. His eyes tensed, watching my eye’s, knowing their mission.

He gripped my hand, forcing my eyes back to him. The priest's words began, muffled, unimportant. All I could feel was this hand that shackled me. To all, it looked gentle, kind, earnest. Loathing clothed as love. The grip tightened, more and more and more. It kept me from looking away. It kept me looking forward. But he didn’t stop. Tighter, and tighter, and tighter. I thought my hand would shatter, splinter like my happiness. In the presence of all, Time continued crushing me. And still, I smiled, if I didn’t, worse things would happen once alone.

How did this happen, how did I let it get this far? My mind spun, revisiting my life. Eternity told the best jokes, at his own expense. When he’d notice I was cold, he’d bundle me to himself. He'd cook for me, delight in me, listen to me. Eternity made me look forward to forever.

Time was a burden, but a thrill. The sex was great, but empty. Like a flowerless pot. He crafted an existence so bleak, so painful, that any taste of good meant the world. Eternity remained good, always.

Right before the priest asked that dreaded question, I saw him. Red suit steadfast, like the beacon of a lighthouse. Time's face couldn’t hold that fake smile; it turned ugly, rotten.

“You’re crushing my love, you bastard. Get the hell away.” Eternity roared, it trembled me. Ripped threw the despair and quiet like a smile in hell.

I’d never seen Eternity mad, I’d never seen Time scared. But he listened, my hand throbbed, but no longer crushed. And Eternity walked towards me, I felt my heart quicken, for different reasons. Better ones.