On the night possessing considerable finesse, on the night of passion forlorn. ’Twas the day I met you dancing in the ocean-deep puddles of rain with an unforgettable youth’s bravado. You kicked away with your naked feet, and you ignored the booming thunder yelling in the distance like it was never there. I flinch at the flash of light in the air, while you dance on like it never happened. I am honored to bear witness to your dance of sorrow shining in all its glory, as I stand atop this grand clock tower. I share your sorrow from my first row seat, and yet I cannot act upon your silent plea, as I am consumed by a silent plea of my own. Your dance sends you soaring in the air with tireless wings, and yet I can see arms that are beckoning forth the deadly light violently kissing the surface of the earth from above. The unwavering flow of your silhouette tell me we are both chasing naught but shadows of dreams. What better chance have we got than to jump, and run from a heartless tomorrow? BOOM! With the sudden flash in the sky, I see a message sent from above delivered through your passionate movements. I see that your arms do not beckon me forth to Death’s embrace, but into the embrace of your warm Heart.

I would like to challenge @ChrisSadhill to write a response following the original prompt’s key words.

Lord B,

On the night we met… I felt your beseeching glances of passion forlorn. Yes, your eyes drank me in when you believed my attention was engaged with other banquet guests. However, I certainly sensed a silent plea radiating from you toward me.

Am I correct? Or perhaps it was only youth’s bravado misinterpreted? I must know for sure. I struggle with the possibility I imagined it all. The memory of you comes to me in the shadow of dreams... A forbidden and delicious delight; the very remembrance of which causes hot roses to bloom upon my cheeks. I can no longer pretend like it never happened.

I send this bold request on raven’s tireless wings. I fervently hope it is not delivered into the wrong hands. I do not wish to upset the fragile peace between our neighboring lands.

Please do not deny me an answer. I fear I cannot face such a heartless tomorrow in my continuing uncertainty of your true feelings.

Affectionately,

Lady H

[See The Letter: https://theprose.com/post/737746/the-letter]

My dearest sweet Lady H,

I write to thee with trembling hands, as I know I may have but this one chance to answer, and I must spill out the truth my heart cannot hide, before my courage slips away like dew upon the morning grass.

Thou are correct, fair maid, I did espy thee sitting among the guests across the banquet hall, like a rose blooming amidst a field of daisies. I tried not to stare with awkward abandon, but found my eyes drawn to thine grace, as a sword is drawn to a lodestone.

The desire I had... nay, the desire I STILL have... cannot be contained. I dreamed last eve of thee, sitting high and gorgeous upon a white steed, shining thy beauty and love down upon my humble self as the sun radiates the earth with warmth and light, providing it with the very essence of life itself.

I simply must see thee again.

My father would never approve of this. He is concerned only with the farm lands that separate our houses, and the border disputes with thy father. He is an old and doddering fool! I would care not if we gave the lands all to thine family, if only I could kiss thy soft and glorious lips a single time.

If thine heart swells in thy breast as mine does, please meet me at the large oak tree that sits where the High Road crosses the Avenue of Leaves, an hour after sunset. We mustn't be caught, but I cannot contain myself any longer.

Use caution, but wear my love for thee as a shield, and know that I will attend thee upon thy arrival, and forever there after.

I remain thy faithful servant,

B

My own stories bore me.

I've lived them, turned about in their seams, and it seems all the magic is let out on the Night like a fluff of lint from the dryer... our tumbler of passion, forlorn and worn now like a shapeless garment subverting youth's bravado.

I wear the dark sky, Moth eaten. Searchlights are pouring in or out, I cannot be sure, but I can see the dust in which weeds are growing... like it never even happened!

Where could he go, having had his fill, of Nothing...?

And so this silent plea, in search of some new tireless wings to peer into each opening and stave off that heartless tomorrow, upon which every thread and limb of creation is hanging... with hunger.

Am I destined to fall into the moon, and rise with some withheld breath, like in a hot air balloon? I am looking out for that flittering creature with its harmless bite, and fluttering beating, like leaves parting in the window of the evening. I want to watch the interplay of Light and Shadows, of dreams catching up with Life.

Talk to me in the shadows of dreams

In the soft excitement of keeping secrets

Meet me on the street corner

Kiss me in the back of the classroom

Then wink at the teacher like it never happened

Fall for me on the night of melting ice cream and skipping rocks

Fall in love with me under friday night lights and skinny dipping at the dock

Then turn around and give me a heartless tomorrow

Reminiscent of youth’s bravado

Moving on from late night drives and later night phone calls

Of passion forlorn, of memories

Moving on from making it work

From when we had tireless wings and promised forever

You scoffed

Told me we were too high school

And I let it be

My eyes a silent plea to stay

My voice yelling for you to go

You are sitting at the window several stories up and the Moon is as if at your feet just beginning its journey, on the night. It's exactly as you say--the holes in the sky are inverse to the focus in your eyes. The back and forth, the twinkle and dark, the inward and outward reflection, is like respiration, like a hymn. A meditation. One syllable in; One syllable out. I do not know what happened in the Moth eaten past-- maybe it's personal, maybe it's Universal.

If you jumped now, surely, you'd roll out of these dark garments. You'd fall into the Moon with youth's bravado and no doubt you would rise with it. Not because you are so conceited; but because Imagination would carry you across the shadows of dreams that are pulling in, even now as we speak. When the Moon is centered, as it should be, everything will be tucked beneath our feet. Just like at High Noon, in a silent plea. Unless you are heartless, tomorrow you will wait for me. At strike of Midnight, you'll climb down, the hard way, down all those flights of stairs on your own two feet. You'll crawl if you have to; who knows how low you've sunk in the depth of your emotion to say that you feel so very empty--

--I will fill you. With tireless wings I will lift your blackened carcass as if the weight were meaningless. And I'll breath a single kiss of passion forlorn into your wordless abyss till the color floods back into your fingertips, back into your ankles, elbows, and knees, back to your mind, ventricles, and entrails and all your lifegiving forces-- readied like paint for the making. And when we're fully connected in broadest of daylight, you'll come to your senses. You'll stand with me willingly, forcefully, giving... like it never happened.

I was supposed to shelter you, all of you, inside myself, remember? For you, I would be that safe space, every incarnation, and desire of Imagination, at play. Can you feel me now? the brush of hair and skin that shivers with your hand tracing the contours of where I, I should have always been. Our eyes interlock, and you finally see right through me.

And now I'm in a police precinct eight months later for...

Oh yeah. Supposedly defrauding and exploiting four-- no wait it was one hundred and four people now. I mean, if one could even call the 'cult' our fault anymore.

So, it started like this.

"On the night when a moon, the moon up there or Pinky's was full-- whaaaat?"

Okay. Okay.

I had to get used to the fact that cops usually had these hang-ups about being 'respected' and 'minded.' Like I was so gracious as to not bark and bite when dragged outside at eight in the morning. Geez. I wonder if even Bailey was of passion for-lorn to get me off that kind of high horse. What a heartless tomorrow awaited.

Until...

"He asked me to go to the cemetery with him 2:48 on the letter or ugh you know. You know," I said genial and truly, truly confident in this man's comprehension skills. "I dunno said some thing about haunted dirt. Shadows of dreams that one. No, no I'm serious this time. I mean he's not like, formally an occult freak or anything my guess is he watched too many horror movies or felt the apartment could use a poltergeist rather than the menace of society he is. But I mean good luck getting anything to stick. All that money, the ever-shining tireless wings of the justice system'll have their silent plea banished!"

"Just the facts."

"I know, I know. Can I get an eval. Sometimes, I do think I'm crazy."

That man I had to admit had the finest deadpan I'd ever seen. Discipline amazing as I'm sure his physicality must-- AND that IS WHERE I drAW the LIne!

"So I honestly went along hoping to tire myself out because it was well, three in the morning at that point. Call it some youth's youthful bravado but when we saw the grave robbers and I mean that very, very literally!"

"Yeah see, you get it!"

"Messed UP!"

"Like I said a rational person would gotten the f*ck out of the hood, but not Bailey. Oh no. And the stout one's whinging made me miss out on a Tirtouga! TIRTOUGA! I mean I'm just saying, that's why I went along with what happened next."

"And what was that?"

"Hmm, let me," I put a finger to my chin-- genuinely thinking-- only for the officer to sigh like he could hardly tolerate me at that point.

And to be honest, it was a little fair.

Either way I did need a moment because it'd been just a bit more than one heartless tomorrow thank you. What did that certain phrase mean? Where had I heard it?

Oh well.

"Right so, this is where it gets stupid. See, Bailey had this idea to scare them witless which for me; was hilarious, and for him, would get them to leave as well as getting a lead onto juust what their operation was. I had to be the shirtless, ethereal ghost of the pond and he was the mad cultist; the only mad cultist mind you. And it worked, then he wanted to take this shroud they used for some of the bodies. Yikes, still draw the line there but, he took it anyway. Anyway, we mostly followed the car tracks on foot which lucky us, made for an accessible second hit of a China shop. They were already inside so we'd planned to turn over the back of their van; breaking and looting all the stolen shit we could.

"Soooo, the back was painted all blood red and we threw stuff all around from behind, not gonna lie, that was epic, but by that point I wanted a drink which is how it didn't end from there and I ended up in the back of a car. So anyway, not sure how Bailey got that college girl from Malt Tech to help us or even believe in our shit but here we are now, so they drove to the pier, Bailey'd nabbed the right checklist to know where the stuff was all headed for sorting and later distribution and laundering. Now the four other run-ins with a three or so hundred pound semi I have to assume was them until they hit jackpot. I got the young ones there in on the con, I mean relatively young obviously so we made it out to be a ghost ready to kill and our demonic prayer circle, turned the whole ring on their leader. By then it was practically class time, if it weren't a weekend so we cut our losses, ready to go back home. Pretend like it all never happened. I swear."

So why didn't it?

"Alright so our new "followers" were ready to believe some demonic power is why that whole plan worked and frankly the after part made me wonder a bit too. So, while we were getting on home we find ourselves manhandled into a costume shop and barber with all of it paid for. And I got a breakfast and drink so at that point I didn't complain."

Look, "we really just wanted to dick around for food and other essentials. That's. It. They never had to kill themselves, never had to steal, never anything."

Like it never happened, like I could ever forget it. This thing that has grown between us cannot simply be erased by his walking away. His footsteps are light with youth's bravado; I know it is not real because of the stone in my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"You can't just walk away!" I yell at his back. Words wrapped in barbed wire to hide a silent plea of my heart for him to come back to me. The shadows of dreams that I never should have conjured are all I have left as his blank face turns to me.

"Walking away is all I can do. I want to forget," he pleads, waving a hand at me and my backdrop. "Do you think anyone else would care? We are nobodies." I scramble for a reply; he has cut off my best argument before I could even begin. I torture my brain to come up with something, anything; he cannot leave me to face the heartless tomorrow on my own. It was his tireless wings of hope that have kept me going for this time that we have been together, I do not know if I can do it alone.

"Please don't leave me," I whimper at his back as he turns once again to walk away from me, but my words go unheeded. Somewhere, a bird calls into the night, a lone morner of passion forlorn.

I turn away too, walking back to the place that has been my home for who knows how long. Slowly, I slide down the metal wall onto my filthy mattress on the floor. I stare dispassionately at the ever-growing blood stain on the floor, and at the sharpened spoon resting in the red sea.

"I still hate you for making me this pathetic," I tell the corpse of my ex-captor. I may have been a nobody with no one to care about me and not a thing to my name, but once upon a time I had the ability to make decisions. I try to wipe the blood droplets off my face, but I only smear them more with the blood on my hands.

"I don't know what to do," I sob as I curl up on my side, the springs of the bare mattress digging into my ribs like always, but now there is no one here to comfort my pain. My nose runs, blocking out the awful smells that I have been made aware of by my brief walk outside.

I am lost as to what to do, not knowing how to escape my prison now that the door is finally open. On the night that I should have been free, I can feel the false walls closing in on me. The bars on my mind are slowly cutting me into pieces.