Saturday, September 3, 2011

An Awkward Sight

These past few nights I've dreamt, slept, and taken in all the insanity rising in my mind. A young girl, short and feisty, who once held my heart--before she tore it apart--keeps my mind at unrest. She cares no longer for these brown eyes that still hold her in deep consideration, yet my heart sinks to impale itself upon the rocky shores below that stand to shield my ocean of torment. Yes, I died with suicidal precision at the unwelcomed vision of her face. Her face, a serene scowl to hold back lies, as her small, white hand draws a frightful card numbered XIII.

My head hits the pillow and thoughts of her death pound against my frontal lobe. So, my feet hit the cement in an attempt to allow darkness to wash away my pitch thoughts. Love, hate, something deeper than I've ever looked to imitate; it all pounds against my psyche against my will. When will it come? Where will she be if I'm true? I'd rather die myself than learn that her fate has met the big number XIII.

Carpe diem.