The Unrequited love poem: How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?
Within the thoughts of an esoteric conversation, where the only audible sounds are those of a distorted fever-dream, one may find themselves wishing to comprehend what was happening. I sit next to familiar faces, family members, friends, and co-workers, all continuing on with their conversations. We just watched, some odd 10 minutes ago, a ceremony unfold of a marriage between two lovers. The emotions among the audience ranged from forlorn to debilitating-forlorn. Unfortunately, there was also me in the audience. I couldn’t tell if I felt emotionless or if that was just what it was to sullen in my own self-pity. I wish them luck, the groom and the bride, and for the best in the future; a future that will be without me; a future that will be unnecessarily more painful for me to bear than those around me.
People danced with one-another in glimmering elegance. There was an empty seat next to mine, but there wasn’t much attention paid to that. I could see the bride whisper something to one of her family members as they stared at me, I don’t believe they saw me, but when she finished speaking, the face on the older lady seemed to melt from her face until it reached the floor and all she saw was from the point of view that I saw. She saw nothing more than only a single angle, to see straight down and not notice what was around me. To suffocate visually; to lose a sense, but that doesn’t really matter because the sense of anything seemed to fade a lifetime ago; and not just a lifetime but a lifetime that was once planned, a lifetime that once had pleasure and something to look forward to.
She walked over towards me, bobbing back and forth through dancers just to ensure that her face wouldn’t be stepped on, as it was still melted onto the floor and was spreading more than before until it looked like a puddle of regurgitated leftovers left for easy picking among the hounds of the room. I felt bad for her because her face seemed to attract the bloodhound noses of the men in the room, and a few trembled at the sight of the face and revert back to their primal senses and proceeded to thunder-clap onto the floor near the face and start to lick it up.
I couldn’t tell if the woman was screaming or not, but it also seemed to happen so fast. Within a few seconds, that is, within a few seconds that rest within a few milliseconds, meaning, faster than a few seconds, her face was eaten up entirely by 3 male wedding goers who bore holes in their lower-back section of their tuxes so their erected tails could fit out of. Once she finally reached me her face was like a smeared pastel painting that blurred all the way down to the floor.
“…” She attempted to speak.
“!!!” It was clear she began to panic noticing that not even her could understand what she was saying anymore. In her mind, and within reality, it seemed that the act of her face melting and the groomsmen-hounds eating it up, happened within such a short time of frame that it was just until now she began to notice the horrors of what was happening to her.
“Do you need?” I asked her.
She started to touch the area her face once was, feeling the length of the snaky-blur that reached the floor, gripping onto the ill-contrasted edges and doing what I could only assume was her screaming. Her feet slowly back-peddled until she was away from me and back on the dance floor. A crowd of wedding-goers began to notice she was deforming onto the floor and they reacted according to the situation. Mass hysteria soon ensued the party room.
I don’t understand why those around panicked as they did, because it was clearly only the woman who should have been able to panic. Ironically, I spoke too soon. Several of the women’s faces began to melt until becoming the same stew-like texture the original woman’s face was until the hounds came up and slurped the mess. There was something amiss this time when their faces were on the floor being dragged by the panicking women running away from whatever it was they thought was to run from. The groomsmen-hounds no longer attempted to eat them; and out of the nowhere the faces of the women and the tails of the men resorted back to previous-reality.
Everything was the same as it was before. Everyone else seemed fine, but it was hard to tell with my face melted to the floor.