Emily
It never comes oft;
Only in waves and crashes.
Sometimes I lie in bed,
Only to think of your ashes.
It’s been many years now,
And I still recall your touch
The taste of you in the air
The feel of my fingers in your hair…
Casimir Aldair slapped the book away, his shoulders racked with unbidden sobs.
What sort of shit are you writing?
The quill in his hand snapped in half as his fingers tensed it past the breaking point, and so he tossed that too, off into the solemn trees that towered above him.In the distance the sounds of Wilhelm echoed: herders calling their livestock, maids scolding their children, and farmers rustling among the early autumn harvests.
FUCK!
He never let the words escape him, or the sobs make a sound. Several years after the fact, and he still couldn’t control himself, couldn’t get over it. So here he was, fighting back tears, alone in the woods, screams echoing in his head. Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing. The pain hadn’t gotten better over time, and when he wasn’t working his page duties or his… other duties… it was always there – always.
“Oi, Cas, I need s’money fer… oh,” Joseph’s voice fell into silence as he saw Casimir kneeling in the spongy humus. The Vandagan’s usual cocky smile was gone, in its place a grim line.
“Come on, Cas. Let’s get y’to a bed.”