emilylivesonpluto
The winter's brisk air, slithering into my lungs. It hurts to breathe sometimes. The flowers shrivel and the wind howls, banging against the old shutters of the worn down farmhouse. Inside I find a warm fire, melting away the pain that I've held onto for so long.
Pines. Pine Needles. poking my bare feet as I race across the forest floor, leaving the home I once called mine.
Soon the wind will wash across my face like the gentle streams pouring from the windows of my soul. Soon to be loved, yet soon to be forgotten. I will never let go of you my Beloved proclaims the King. I will never let you go.
Help me, I can't breathe. My heart feels like it's been punctured over and over again by a thousand splinters of glass. I feel so lost and lonely, trapped in these dark woods, while everyone I once knew begin to slip from my mind and I painfully, slowly begin falling into darkness.
Before the sun stretched over the mountains. Before the birds began to sing their song. Before the moon disappeared into the background to shine it's light in another world.
Before I left, I knew I needed to say goodbye, although I really didn't want to.
Before I left, I quickly grabbed the empty bucket. The berries looked especially fresh today. I wanted to pick them before the birds gathered them for the winter. Yes, birds need food, but my husband really enjoys my blueberry pie and I'm sure he would appreciate it tonight after out fight the day before.
writing since 2012 · 7 entries · 5 days shown up
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soonbirdsbreathebeginleavingsoulwindquicklygrabbedemptybucketberriesespeciallyfreshpickgathered