The Love Leg
My darling Capi,
How can I give voice to these phantasms that haunt my soul? I see how hard you try, yet your strength is so brittle, no longer your own. Never your own, if I’m being honest, but is that what I want to be? Is that what’s needed? Required. Your word, that. Adoration, allegiance, labor, loyalty, my very life’s breath…required.
Perhaps honesty is what’s necessary, but I know you well enough to realize that it’s nothing that you would ever want. Hold up a mirror? Foolishness. Better a window. A lens! Yes, a lens that you might, like Alexandria’s lost lighthouse, distill the essence of light and set me aflame (how you inflame me!), or, perhaps, set the world alight.
Yes, yes! That is the heart of things. You’ve set the world alight. Night is banished, all brought to the open so that those with eyes to see and a heart sufficiently calcified might build a new world from the ashes of the old.
Can you not see, Capi? I can no longer pretend. My love, no more. No more! Perhaps you’ve inflamed your own eyes to the point of blindness, but the scales now fall from mine. And, seeing, I must flee, fall upon my face before Her, and beg Her forgiveness for my sins. Our sins. I understand at last, you have a mind of metal and wheels and care not for anything, save that it serve your lust.
Farewell
Instructions
Leg 7 – The Love Leg: Write your microfiction as a love letter. It can be addressed to a person, creature, object, disease, city, machine, ghost, god, organ, failed idea, or anything else that probably shouldn’t be loved in the slightest. The content is up to you, but it must still read like a letter: intimate, direct, and addressed to someone or something. The weirder and more inventive, the better (or so I say, but who am I to say?).
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