The Lingering

It lay there curled and undisturbed in the corner an unloved thing that had passed out of existence, quietly without ceremony or notice like the falling of dust or the shedding of leaves.  As all around it life continued to rise waiting for death to drag it down and consume it leaving nothing but a smudge, lingering in tears mingling into our hopes and staining our dreams.  Taking comfort being carried into immortality on the backs of those who love us and who hate us with equal passion,  passed on like second-hand books to be occasionally glanced at as examples, we would hope for the better.

She saw it, it had been lingering for sometime, ignored it she did not care for the memory she was trying so hard to scour harshly from her mind.  Hoping everytime she entered the inner sanctum which was everyone's place of solitude, someone would have taken the burden would have claimed responsibility for that wretched creature that was reeking her small space with its scentless stench of existing.

But no one did and so it remained where it fell a memory of the life it once was, a life she feared and hated with unreasonable force.  It was a small unencumbered life existing freely quietly before its permanent  fall, even in death her fear persisted gnawed away at her conscious  its presence was a taunt calling out, but all it wanted was mercy for the empty house of a long abandoned soul.

It lay there haunting her waiting for recognition of a kindred soul but she would not give it she fretted sweeping glances towards it.  It wasn't a gentle glance of tenderness but sharp glare of fear.  She navigated cautiously to rest her weary bones on the sculpted throne sighing with serene relief the burden that was stabbing and churning inside was leaving as she emptied her vessel of the bile she accumulated from her journeys, then scrubbed the hands that toiled and cleaned the filth.  And left it alone once more.