abuse, blood, dark, Death, eyes of lies, love, love story, short story, suicide

Everything, that never was real.

Do you remember

Her graceful dances to Mozarts tunes on Sunday nights?

And how she led your hands up her thighs after dimming the lights?  

How she spoke in riddles, and playfully twisted her curls,

She was not like any of the other girls.

Do you remember

Her silky black hair flowing down your fingers like sweet water droplets?

Eyes as vibrant as her adventurous soul had always been to you,

And how your were inseperable like waterproof glue?

You loved how she blushed with just the right touch of shyness.

Do you remember? Do you?

Do you remember

(It was the 6th of December,)

How endearingly she smiled at you, but her eyes weren’t the same.

Her pearly teeth were showing, but her eyes, showed pain.

And how she walked away, taking small steps.

Do you remember? Do you?

Do you remember

Watching her stand outside on a Sunday night,

Watching snow fall in the suns fiery light?

Her gaze seemed lost in space, another dimension.

And no matter how hard you tried, you never got her attention.

Do you remember

How, when you put her to sleep,

She would quietly start to weep?

And her tears of pearls were beautiful and divine,

So you ran you fingers down her spine, “are you ok?”- “Its alright, Im fine.”

Do you remember? Of course you do.

Sundays with sweet mozart tunes, slowly slipped away.

And her tears soon faded altogether, with her happiness, day by day.

Her riddles started getting twisted in the dark,

And you stopped taking long walks by the park.

No more kisses on your forehead.

Nothing.

Do you remember

The scene when you came home?

She was naked, abused, and alone.

And blood was dripping from those once so vibrant eyes,

Down her spine.

Nothing about this was beautiful, nor divine.

Her elegant curves hung in harmony on a rope off the sky.

And you asked yourself,

“How could this once so happy creature, want to die?”

A little letter lay in spilled red;

“Im sorry, my love, forget me, I am now dead.

And its not your fault, you couldn’t know,

That my whole life, I was putting on a show.

So, my love, move on, move on. Let me disappear into red tinted snow.”

And its been 5 years, since that fateful day,

When your angel was taken away.

Life never went on, and everything is frozen in time.

Your love, was it really as strong as a dime?

You do remember, but do you want to?

Remember everything about you two, and what you went through?

Maybe its better to join her in the skies,

To be able to stare into her beautiful eyes…

To be able to hear her soothing voice and feel,

Everything, that never was real.

Standard
actor, cold hearted, contrast, dangerous, dark, depression, fake, gloomy, happy, heart, love, poem, poems, poetry, short story, story, suicide

“Let Me Take You Away!”

Spotting her is a mere child’s play,

She makes all the other flowers look black and grey.

Her face is pale, but her lips are rushing red,

She smiles like there is something she’s keeping from you, something remains unsaid.

Her eyes a soft washed out green, so beautiful, so divine,

Her silky hair effortlessly falls down her spine.

She smiled at me with just the right touch of blush and shyness, and used to say,

“Darling, hold my hands, let me take you away.”

“You look confused and alone, my dear.”

She used to whisper into my ear.

She knew from just a touch,

Who I was, and she didn’t judge.

She was the one who brought happiness to me,

I was blinded by something so effortlessly beautiful, she.

But once my smile had returned,

I held her hand once again, something wasn’t right, it burned.

“Darling, hold my hand, and take me away.”

“Darling please, I dont want to stay.”

Her mouth lie in a thin morbid line,

It looked so unnatural, like they were not used right, to their design.

“Take me away!” She said again, this time louder.

She dropped to the floor, like a dehydrated flower.

“Take me away…” She cried. “Take me away.”

“Forever, please, I dont want to stay”

Her cry had a rawness to it, like a freshly cut open wound.

I just stood there, utterly astound.

I took her cold hand, almost like ice, dead.

And I realised, her hands were red.

Her eyes were dripping flames ,

Everything clashed together, lives unspoken worries and pains.

I couldn’t believe that this girl, who had showed me life,

Would leave it, by just the cut of her little pocket knife.

And I still remember what she used to say,

“Hold my hand, let me take you away. “

Standard