Young Vampires

We were standing in front of the rusty and broken mirror and we were the most beautiful. I had purple hair, you had them green and we were the most colourful. We were forever young, we were liberated and we were happy. I thought we were teenage vampires, who could disappear from the world or make the world disappear. Our reflections in the broken mirror could not get old, could not leave and could not be forgotten.

It was us in that rusty mirror - as we would like to be, as we might be, as we are no more.

I said that I hate my birthdays as I don't want to get old. You made me love that day because I was reborn as a young vampire breaking the limits of reality, space and time. We were running in circles and arriving at the same point: we were happy and the only bothersome thing was the need to pee . I was finding myself on the path to the toilet but I was forgetting what I wanted to do. I was picking all the tomatoes and grapes, running after butterflies and returning to kiss you never reaching to my salvation.

I wanted to jump over the little fence and kill the neighbour who was painting his gate. He did not want to run after butterflies and bees, or wander in the forests: he was painting like it was the best thing to do on that sunny Sunday. The other neighbour was driving his cart around bringing his worldly existence to our realm of beauty and colours. They had their eyes on us, observing how we were lying in sunshine and making cloud castles. We could not accept that in that point of space and time, other humans existed, that we needed to share the world. Life was turning into Truman show and was just a simulation (within a simulation) for the neighbours. Or maybe we were living in an advertisement for tomato juice, so our happiness could bust their sales.

Maybe, maybe it was a simulation after all. How, what, why? Why do we exist? Do we even exist? What are we? I wanted you to write in my notebook. You wrote "Chaos was here and existed" (08.09.2017). Chaos existed and I made him write my name in Armenian. People who appear in my black notebook (not a death note), stay there forever. Chaos came with cake and Molly and we wrote poems scraping words from the sky. Then Chaos gifted me his soul and returned with Alice. A soul merchant from Amsterdam wanted to buy him, but I never sold his soul. Chaos stayed, so I can leave.

The sun was setting, and our forever young, forever beautiful faces were starting to disappear in the broken and dirty mirror. The day was dying and we were growing old - we were not eternal after all. I was laughing, then crying, then laughing again to realise that the witching hour has started. I brought the wood and the bonfire rose. We were dancing around the fire - I was a witch, I was a shaman. We were circling and poking the ashes with a spade. We were singing and dancing around Yggdrasil, while the witches and gods were dancing around us. The fire was rising towards the skies, the potatoes were burning with the wood forgetting that they were food, not fuel. We were smoke, we were fire. We were warm and we were gods. Our fortune was written in the red coal, but we could not read runes so evening dissolved and the future burned away.

The potatoes turned into ashes and we were left hungry and we were the ones on the table. I remember the bright stars, the moon, I remember you over me and I remember that the table did not break. I remember every single thing, every single minute of that day, though I was scared that we would wake up without any memories.

I buried you, I buried me, I buried every single thing but I remember that day. I remember your green hair turning into grass and your sky-blue eyes swallowed by your wide pupils. I remember the reflection of the forest in a lake - the upside down world, where you did not let me go and drown. Like you always did, like you still so. I remember the blue smoke of a slow burning cigarette which covered my life and never     

I want us to be two forever young vampires again, who would destroy the world or disappear from it.