Those fingers so delicately pluck the soft,
fragile strings, and yet turn hard and rough from time.
The life once swirling in your magnetic eyes,
Turned stagnant and dull.
Your lips left kisses tattooed across my chest,
purple and black like dying roses.
The painting you once gave me
gives me the sour taste
of the last time
I saw you.
The candlelight shone off the colored glass of the bottles that lined the shelves, flickering and illuminating the old, faded labels. Lightning of a summer storm. Winter wind. Time (1 yr). “Sir?” The
He’s waited for such a very long time. For as far back as he can remember, he’s known of his task—to protect his king even if it costs him his life. And his master was a kind one, always making sure t
I feel the cusp of unformed emotions bubbling up in my throat. They threaten to spill out at inopportune moments. A throwaway phrase, a hand gesture that is more forceful than it needs to be. Like the
