Petal

I've been cursing a rose. Every morning, incessantly, it brushes against my murky window. Squeak, squeak, squeak. I lie and I dream of it's destruction as I roll in torment contained to the space between my sweat sodden sheets. I can not move to stop it, I can only dream of it's halt. I did not know the nature of what I was condemning until today, until Tanya moved the curtain too far and it finally came into my view. As she propped me up to feed me my eyes fell on the rose's tragic beauty and I lost my breath. I'd imagined it to be a twig, a lowly and feeble thing, something so ordinary and dead - reflecting my existence. But there it was, it's pink flourish mocking me, reminding me of the life once in me, now so irrevocably depleted. Tanya left me to my own thoughts, exiting through the only door, one i will never have the pleasure to walk through. I exhaled shakily, my own decrepit version of a sigh. I sat, slumped against the crackling sheet of the mattress, and tried to feel my body. I wiggled my fingers strenuously, surprised by how much such a simple act pained me. I wondered existentially if i'd ever really been able to feel my body, to sense the organs I could not locate now - enjoy them pumping in their desperate way, futilely rushing the blood around my ungrateful body. Maybe I never could. Maybe I'm mourning for a feeling i am a virgin to, coveting something that does not, can not, physically remain. Or maybe I just never noticed the activity, as I was too busy living.
    I felt a line of drool extending from my lax mouth and down my freshly shaven chin. I attempted to wipe it away, to be rid of it's embarrassment - but my arm did not complete the motion it was so instructed to. Instead it shook in protest, still confined to it's grave above my sheets. The more I tried to ruse it, the more it disobeyed until eventually a second moisture, one cascading from my bulging eyes, mingled in with drool and both fell to their deaths just above my chest. I thought in that moment of every cigarette i'd ever refused in the fear of cancer, every occasion i'd ever worn a rubber in wake of the fear of infection, ever girl i'd ever not kissed to avoid rejection, to feign off regret. I thought of these things, of the intricate and undeniable components of a dreadfully wasted life. What did it all mean now? Now my body was no longer my vessel of vigor, but one for disease and decay. They were ripe within me and I couldn't stand it. I moved my leg, struggling against the condition in my mind screaming at me to stop. I dragged it over the edge of the bed and the other followed, a dutiful pal - and I fell to the floor like a haunted rag doll. I lay in a crumpled heap, my chest heaving in panic. I turned onto my back and gazed through the somber window. My voice could not produce words, it simply rasped in an ethereal manner - it would take them hours to find me. I felt a light warmth spread from my crotch and as I heard the drip of liquid I knew my final civilized ability had left me. Humanity stripped from me I lay stagnant. Out of the corner of my eye I could make out the rose, it's hue soft and comforting - a petal fell from it as I watched it, swaying carefree in the spring breeze. Squeak, squeak, squeak.