Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Borrowed Time

Her hand quakes as the beating in her heart elevates. A mass of unshed tears began to mist her eyes. A growing sensation wonders and the mask she once wore crumbles.

It’s over. You’ re a mistake. A figment my muse - a misspelled irrevocable curse. So shed your skin, lather and lash at your breathe as you give into sin. Sit on the cold taunting ground, feel vulnerable. Your heart is split in two and the windows to your soul are fogged. Yet with all you’re in, I feel not a thing. Again, nothing at all. An empty and void feeling - stale as you broke apart.

Her heart stings Her lips dry. Her voice is mute and her breathing stops. His words dagger into her heart. She lies motionless on the ground.

She died before him, but he just walked away.

The scene ends all but lacking hate.



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until i am officially on safat, i guess i will copy paste my posts from my new home to this old and hideous location i call temporary ;)

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

great piece.

with time it seems your pieces get better and better.

keep it up.

12:13 AM  

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