Pluto (Rough Draft)

Through the dark dusty hall she found a crack in the wall, her figure magnetized until she was stood in front the door.

‘Open it for me.’ She watched his form construct beside her.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

His eyes sent wild hornets through her skin. He flowed in front of the door, the sly in his movement tickled her hair.

‘Because you’re supposed to be with me.’

A square in the ceiling disappeared, the centered glow highlighted nothing but the ground and a smear of his gray clothing. It was fated to have no color here.

‘But I have life outside that door.’

His shoulders rattled.

‘A life without me.’

Another door appeared above, its scarlet exterior divided from the void around it along with the golden handle acquainted with numbers.

‘That’s mine.’

He looked up at the door vanquished.

‘How do you do it?’

‘Do what?’ Her body smeared from him subliminally.

‘Be a bloomed flower in a cemented room. You don’t always have to be a hot air balloon.’

A burning slash of purple painted across the dreary atmosphere.

‘You can’t always be my fire, Burk.’

His eye shriveled into his socket.

‘You never get me far anyways.’ She never sounded irked.

The room rolled onto its back, the space it had created earlier was now below them and the crescent of a door was opposite of them.

Her door was confronting them.

‘I need to get better. Maybe then, we could be petals together.’

His clouded hands ghosted around her solid ones.

‘Pebbles, Journey. Pebbles. Why can’t we be pebbles together?’

Her breath swept his particles off her.

‘I don’t want to sink anymore.’ Her head lowered her voice, ‘Even if it is with you.’

His nose flowed away from his face like a feather and shattered into dust.

‘You said forever.’

‘I said forever in love, Burk. This is not it. This place you’ve made.. it’s not love.’

A cut sliced across the bottom of his lip, a chunk of his tooth fell to the ground and blood syruped around his chin so bright she could taste it.

Probably because she had before.

‘But I can change it. I can change this, I can make it home. I can make it a garden again.’

The ceiling flashed a red.

‘This was never a garden. You decorated it to a garden, none of the plants were real… none of them could feed us.’

Her legs were becoming less apparent and she could feel the isolated flower began to weep for soil.

‘I’ve got to go.’

Her door handle began to rattle and she felt the room’s attempt to crush her.

‘Let me go.’

His blurred head shook, she looked to him for an answer but his mouth was dead and nowhere.

‘Either way I still have to grow. It would be easier if you chose your own.’

His eyebrows dropped to replace his mouth. She had never seen him so lugubrious.

She reached for the door, her solidity was partially overshadowed the longer she breathed in the room. Her hand still had structure to grip the handle, she pulled down on it and pushed.

It didn’t open.

‘Stay.’ His voice was a moth in the air.

She didn’t look back.

‘This is particularly yours. You’re too far gone away.’

Nothing.

‘Tell me what the code is.’

His head came into focus in front the door she had chosen, or did it chose her? His furrowed bushy mouth knitted together displaying despondency, the pupil left of his eye stared into her cemented walls.

There was no breaking through this time.

‘Our anniversary.’

‘You remembered?’ She asked blase.

His only remaining nodded.

Her fingertips were paintbrushes but she pressed the code in.

Zero.. One.. Two.. Three.

She should’ve known then.

The door buzzed at her and she squeezed its handle unsetted about her decision. What was out there and what if it was too euphoric than what was here? She couldn’t imagine what she would do with all that felicity.

Maybe she was made for stoicism and ordeal. After all, it was a home, a Pluto home.

But she needed Venus after all this mystery. The blazing took over the room as it crumbled amongst the light, dissipating out into the stared sky and falling into itself. She stepped into the torch letting it decompose all her taken on contrition and inject her with its realm of consensus.

Her skin ran with refinements and brushed her hair with endorsements of her longings.

Something Mars had an addicted habit of doing, but this was considering.

Mars had too much action and wanted now, Venus was flowering her garden with composure.

His mouth blued away with repeal as the ring of Saturn sliced across his face - Uranus took his time to send her life through his projector and with the last vision of her in the deep sea with another queen with cups - his eye grieves away into the last of his milky way.