Buried In The Pains Of The Broken
Petal by petal the roses fall and she feels as if she is one. As if she is falling to the coldness of winters tongue. Waiting for the world to thaw, so that she may feel once again. The hollowness of her heart is strangely heavy for how numb she is.
Gravity seems to be envious, pulling her deeper to the sunken void of her soul. Leaving her feeling as if time wishes her to vanish to the spilling of its sands. But why would these two wish her demise, for she is but burdened with pain?
Wilting in tears as her heart has become two. Separating from itself like the crumbling of a cliff, collapsing to the wide mouth of the oceans. Sinking to the buried parts of her mind, to the shadows that scuttle about like insects. Feeding off the dead, she becomes abled to their words. Drifting in a strange haze of coldness.
A misted cloud finds her alone, crying in misery. And in the mist, whispers a voice, an empty voice. But in her packed ears of the past. She hears not the fiction this voice speaks of, so she follows. Placing her hand to the cool air before her. Taken to a land of twisted smiles and crooked eyes. Where no words are spoken, unless they are of lies. Placing one to wonder what they say is true.
Drawing madness to themselves like a disease. Looking no further for a cure than then their own breath. And as she has found herself in this slandered land, she feels even more forgotten of herself.
She feels as if no petals rest upon her soul.
That winter has come and the frost has settled and no sun shall rise. In her heart, she helplessly drowns its rhythm in memory. Snuffing her love like a strangled bird, snapping her wings from her back. Breaking away from everything that had ever given her hope.
And now, her eyes are painted black, her smile crooked, and her heart immersed in tar. She drifts in the perils of her soul. Damned to the craving of the broken and lost. She walks among the aimless like wood drifting about sea. Floating with no intention for shore.
But in her shattered fever of hope, a soul approaches with a tender look. And though she is dull, filled in a silent heart. This soul glows with a hopeful shine and it reaches for her. Softly it speaks, as it hand extends to embrace hers. But she will not take the hand, the empty screams of her mind echo with suffering.
And the soul vanishes and her heart feels nothing but a painful sense of relief. Her eyes stare blankful into the rotted lands at her feet. Days go by, but the soul returns, reaching out. But this time it reaches with a smile. But still, she will not take the hand. Again, the soul vanishes. Again, days go by, but again, the soul returns, but this time, it speaks of her beauty.
But again she will not take the hand. But in the passing of the soul, a soft tone ripples from her chest. And her eyes become painted in grey. Days go by and the soul returns, but this time, it speaks of her mind. But she does not take its hand. But in the passing of the soul, the tone becomes louder, her eyes become brighter.
And again, the soul returns, but this time it speaks of her heart. Still, she does not take the hand. But with no intention, she smiles, she smiles as if she was never broken. But the soul disappears, and she wanders the damned once again.
Weeks go by, and an odd flutter in her stomach pulls taught her gut. She looks down at her stomach, and feels her skin. But her memory will not allow her to remember what this is. So she looks up and walks about the damned. A few more days go by and the soul appears once again.
But this time, it comes with a kiss and speaks of her soul. It bears its lips gently upon her and stares past the hollowed chambers of her mind. It sees the heart that wishes to beat and the soul that prays to dance once again. And as their lips meet, that once soft tone, become loud. Its bursts with a steady excited rhythm. Her heart has broken from the darkness that consumed it.
Her eyes have become the elegance they once were and her soul, dances with fruitful hips.
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