She was my angel. Because I fell for her demons first. Vowed to kill and bleed for her. I was the devil of the story. But her presence gave me a reason to want to go to heaven. How she could affect souls! It was awe-inspiring. Worth seeing. She was the one, who loved me eternally, irrevocably, and unconditionally. She had me in her thrall. She completed me. Washed away the blood of brutality off me.
Her voice was more soothing than a thousand kisses. Her touch was softer than feather. She was the proof that one could walk through hell, and still be an angel. She knew me inside and out, and still loved me for what I was. She was my guardian angel.
That Bonnie and Clyde costume set shows evil as it always is, standing boldfaced in the light of day with the accoutrements of success. And so what really sold the costumes our neighbours wore, was neither fabric, nor buttons, nor thread - yet the cold-hearted assholes that they truly were.
I sigh, closing my leather journal and setting it (along with my pen) aside in my small, light cerulean blue satchel. The satchel has been my best friend ever since I first found it in the antique store five and a half years ago when mom and dad had given this to me as a kind of early birthday gift. It was the last thing both my parents had given to me before passing.
The leather used to be new, polished, smooth even. Now after five years of having this satchel it's finally starting to look timeworn, but it's that kind of oldish, worn out look makes it all the more appealing for me.
I don't have the slightest inkling about what happened to my cold and calloused heart. You felt like family the instant I met you. Is this passion or misery; how do I convey this unusual feeling?
When I met you, it felt like my day bloomed beautifully. Who knows where we are going?; I have left all that to my heart.
Whichever path I travel, I want only you. You are my supplement; I am yours too!
Thank you, my dear; this heart is yours from now on. How is this new feeling? Name it like you want.
I don't know anything else- you are the one who understands me so well. I have never seen the craze I have in anybody else, other than you! My morning starts with you, my evenings end with you. I will not lose you from my vision; I will give you all you want; you just give me yourself.
I just crave this amazing company you give me. I just worship you.
A widowed wife. A mother of two. Living in a country of chaos. She lives in a scattered pile of concrete held together by fractured planks of wood. Trying to survive in a country that wants everyone dead. Seeking refuge in any broken, run-down house that is still standing. Living every moment of her life in constant fear of death for herself and her children.
The soul subnet, to which most of you are subconsciously connected (few are can connect consciously), has returned a majority vote of "onwards." Thus the process of apocalyptic bargaining is consolidated and we move into the next phase. Updates will come as and when anything is agreed upon.
I originated from a cruel place. Was raised among barbaric conditions, and faced brutality. And finally, I learnt callousness. I became stone-hearted. But when my little bundle of joy arrived, a thing me and my wife made, when she came- my daughter; everything changed. She reminded me of love and bond. I couldn't let her into the world of viciousness. She was soft, and breakable, like the snow. She was was gentle, and she was my world. I knew, that if she ventured into my dark world, she would hate her own existence. I desired my daughter to have a life of positivity and satisfaction of living authentically on purpose. She was the melody of my beating heart. She gave me hope for the future. She was my life, my world- I decided, she would live a good life.
I ache when I see you smile.
I want it to be directed towards me. For me. Because of me. I want to bring you joy; be the source of those lit eyes and dimpled cheeks. I watch you bring so much happiness to those around you. Feel the warmth you’ve given me.
You show me how to find beauty in a cruel world.
You try so hard to do so well. You worked hard. You fought for every step; even if it wasn’t always in the right direction. You wanted to fly and now you’re soaring. I’m afraid. I’m so afraid you’ll crash. That I’ll have to watch it happen. I ache to think there’s no way for me to help if you do.
I still watch you.
Sometimes it becomes a source of guilt. If I have no place in your life, why do I keep following you like this? If you noticed, I’m scared what you’d think of me. I've never been heartbroken before. For that I’m sometimes glad I know you won’t.
We’ll never meet. That’s probably a good thing.
If we met, if we spoke; what would you think of me? That’s what scares me the most. Sometimes I’m left wondering if it’s better we don’t meet. Maybe it would be better if I let you fade from my life, back out of it like you were never there.
But I can’t let go.
Did you ever read the words I did, the ones a child hasn’t forgotten? ‘Kindred spirits’. They make me think of you. Is that truth or my wish? My instinct is that it’s true. But in the same thought I know we wouldn’t agree. The same thoughts or feeling but with a different approach?
I want to be there. I write late into the night because of how much I do. I want to hold your hand. To dry your tears. To take the pain and anger I know you hide. Yet here I sit typing without aim, watching through a screen. To develop an unattainable desire wasn’t wise. I knew it when I started. But we keep moving. Has it been two years already?
The ache won’t fade.
"The saying, 'Forswear it so,' when it comes to lovers," said Shakespeare, "tells that you have been forced by divine hand to wear the love as if sewn into your spirit, into the fabric of whom you are. That because of you love, whatever fate and chance bring, you are forced to wear it, to bare it, to become the fabric of love, the thread and the needle. The angel-witches, I am told, hear it as 'force we (h)ear right sew."