And in the night she became one with her thoughts and her dreams, realizing there was more to life than suffocating in the memories drifting on a pillow. She stepped out of a room, this dim-lighted gallery filled with the images she tried to forsake quietly, but the ludicrous laughter of those portrayed echoed in her chest, like the cut from a knife abusing through her chest, hastening the march of her heart, only to see it bleed and then collapse. The ruby red desire exploited out of red wine fermented by her sour tears, remains now decorating those rapturous lips on the portraits. It’s a disgrace and such a poor sight. We all are glad she closed that door.
No one would have ever imagined one day she’d be taking her wings off the one embrace she always thought was hers, but her wings pleaded guilty moments before they were sentenced to drown in affairs that could not be explained and spread wide open, breaking away from the thickest knot ever holding back those feathers. It was time to get cut loose and fly high. Just for once, let go off that part that wants to attach itself to the end of the story, cut your lifeline here and start all over again, like we never met before, being oceans apart we won’t be captured..
The news that she’d be approaching the harbour left me starry-eyed, brought me to the coast and here I am, waiting patiently to be friends at first sight while I occupy my mind hoping she would come down and see me. We’d sit right here next to each other and watch the tides swing up and down, back and forth, and when the time gets right, I could tell her about this book where the ending comes rather soon, some day soon.
…you can never tell.
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