navyblood
Her blonde curls bounced with her shoulders as she dashed across the stage. Strobes of light flashed in rounds in front of where she stood. The audience, behind the lights, stood up and roared. This, she thought, this was her destiny.
The hand pushes further and further through your chest; past the veins, past the blood. Reaching farther for your heart; past the feeling, past your nerve. Grabs tightly and with one tough pull, rips from you, your love.
I wished for the orange glow of the street light, to cast a circle around my kneeling body. It stood broken, leaving me alone. Behind me, I could hear the whispers of town folk, that had been carried over hill and street and in to my ears. The festival was far behind me, and with it, the people, hope and lights.
Hundreds of tiny ivory tusks, bent and twisted around her tiny frame. Too fragile was she, her wings broken and bruised. The tiny butterfly could not fly no more.
White picket fences boarder this neo-paradise, where the grass is always greener and there is no other side. Such ignorant minds.
The desert sun burnt my fingertips, and dragged it's own long spiny fingers down the length of my back. We touched, once, maybe twice. We danced, all mourning and all through the night. We sang the song of the cactus.
All of my blood rushed into my heart all at once, like a hurricane rocking my body sideways and backwards. It flung my head into an empty space, leaving my love and fear to sit and fuck in this hell the flood made clean again.
Dusk, or dust. Both hold a million, tiny dots of colour, both we don't think much about. Both are overlooked, as, sadly, a part of life we expect.
It roared an angry growl, like that of a lion hungry for it's meaty prey; scaring the flames to a quiver, a top the shrinking candle sticks. It was funny, moments like these are seldom remembered. Thunder so bold and fantastic, is seen as just a triviality in the grand scheme of memory.
writing since 2011 · 10 entries · 9 days shown up
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tinypastroaredstoodbehindgrowllionhungrypreyscaringflamesquivertopshrinkingcandlesticks