Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
An Act, A Scene, A Love With One Side
A Love With One Side
"May I be as bold to say, I love you?! Or am I fool for placing my heart to the quiver of your soul?
For I know you speak as if your heart is no longer a place for love. I know your tears fall not for me, but for the former, and the lonesome hole that reverberates in reminder of your fragile being."
"Yes, you are fool for such a thing. For I am torn in pieces, scattered among many, devoured in their mouths and never given peace. I am a fool myself, for I dwell well in the former. Cutting my own wings from my back. For I fear, that if I fly, I will collapse under the gravity of another's heart. That I shall never feel myself again, nor the warmth of another. I am better in quarry of the broken, than seeking the blood of love."
"I feel your pain, I hear it as clear as the rain upon my roof. I have listened well and gave tribute in your pain. We have exchanged bodies, even souls. Or, in the least, I have given you mine. Do I not bear what you wish for? For have we not shared laughter from the depths of our hearts? Have we not spoke of our shattered selves as if we speak to ourselves?"
"There is nothing I wish for, but the silence of my heart and the ceasing of my tears. Too many times have I crawled from the crowded lungs of the hopeless, playing a romance in my head. A romance that shall never be. For all I have seen, brings nothing but despair and deceit. Preying upon my feeble ego and my sickly soul. Stringing me along as if I am nothing more than a meal. A meal to suffice the hunger of the body."
"But I seek not your body, but your soul. I have been drawn to you as is a man drawn to a Siren. I would gladly give my head, as does the mantis. In the hopes it would allow me such a love as you. I wish only to bring you hope, faith, and love. To lift you when you are low, and praise you when you are high. I shall sacrifice that which will bring you abundance of what ever you desire."
"You truly are a fool, you would be willing to give yourself up for the mere chance to bath in my love, my presence. I am damned, have you not felt my words that rave from my heart? I am no suitor for any. I am arid of joy, for love and wish no more of its fraudulence. I have given it much of my soul, if not all. To bear it any more would only place me into an oblivion. Never to return and be but a mask of who I am."
"Oh, how I weep for you in such thought. But being the fool that I am, I shall leave now, but shall return when the moon speaks to us both. And we are left in the undesirable need to settle, and I shall pray that my heart will hold out for such a day."
"If that is what your foolish heart tells you, then so be it. But be not broken, or resentful, when my heart feels not for you."
A Wanderers Inn I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life. Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls. I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us. I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome vision of what lies inside. B
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
A Crash that Left him Stranded log 1) The plane I was on crashed landed upon an island. I am the only survivor and it has been fifteen days. The only lucky thing of this is not all the food burned up in the crash. But I did not go unscathed, much of my body is burned, I am hoping the salt water is enough to sustain the wounds from festering. But I fear they may be beyond repair. How much longer I have, I cannot say? But the agony of my burns is only increasing as the days go on. Sleep as been horrific, I am in constant nightmares and waking to sweat. Keeping hydrated is most difficult as I must drink the rain water. I have built a small bowl in the sand just outside my sleeping quarters to catch water. I have sewn leaves together with thread I had found in luggage that dropped from the plan. I placed them in the sand as to help sustain as much water as possible. I am no seamstress so the water slowly seeps through into the sand. But it has been enough to get me throug