With every word he wrote, I became a monster devouring his memories. Those ink stained fingers moved furiously. He seemed upset; it showed through the words he penned down. He didn’t want me to speak. He made sure there was not another peep from me as he stitched my lips shut. I felt no pain. I was too cold hearted to feel any. I don’t know if I’m supposed to have a heart at all, he’s never spoken about it. It was made of gold, once upon a time. Nonetheless, not even the silence satisfied him. In his solitude, he remembered the words, the sensual voice, and the graceful walk, all that he used to picture me with. He hated those memories. All he wanted was to forget, forget the fiery redhead he always wanted.
He was madly in love with me. He wanted me to sit upon a pedestal and stay there. He loved how I changed according to his mood and moved along with his beats. He loved how I never strayed away from his fixed thoughts. But, he fed so many thoughts into me that, I was overwhelmed by him. I didn’t want to remain a parasite, leeching away at his soul. Once where I couldn’t stop talking to him was only silence now. When he yearned for peace and quiet, I ambushed him with crass fantasies. I was turning out to be nothing like he imagined. I was an abomination to him. He wanted to shut the monster in me deep down. He wanted to tame me, but I belonged to the wild. I wanted to move along with each thought and skip a few and make new ones. With each step forward I wanted to move erratically. I wasn’t going to be rooted down to a mere pedestal. He tried clothing me in satin and silk and pile embellishment upon embellishment. They restrained me while I soared from one branch to the other. I was that figure leaping away in the moonlight, adorned in shreds of luxury. He kept writing. That was all he could to get rid of my image. Papers piled upon each other on the floor. His frustration and his inability to change me were all too evident in the crumpled pages bleeding ink. Meek I was, long ago. He saw flashes of that ingenuity occasionally as he wrote. Never could he pin that image into a sentence. I transformed into a ravenous monster running wild in his mind, just before each full stop. I had no regular movements, with each step my dance grew more irregular. I couldn’t be relied upon.
So, once again he emptied the bottle of vodka onto his failed attempts at shackling me down and lit the match. I burned and the auburn locks turned ashen. The flames engulfed me leaving the inked thoughts underwhelmed. Burn! He screamed intent on wiping away every image he’d conjured of me. Though, even I knew as the flame crept upon my twisted smile that I’d run amok in his mind once again. As the last flame died down, he seemed to realize that too. So, more papers were drawn, another bottle of vodka opened and I was unleashed. Wild as I was, I danced on those white pieces of paper, splashing ink everywhere. With every word, every drop of ink, he smiled, smiled at the monster he was creating. My lips unstitched, I drained every single thought from him. I danced and danced until there was no immaculate pedestal or no leash to tie me down.