Skip to main content

OLD COLD BEAUTY




Should I go back to that embrace and coldness that once pervaded me, engulfing the corners of my mind and of my broken heart? 

I miss that imprisoning embrace of yours, though I dread your encounter for I might fall in love with you again. 

Yes, I might fall in love with our tears which flowed in torrents leaving me drained with bits of my heart burnt, broken and scattered as I lied in the bed of your torment.

I left you despite your sadness, despite your loyalty of standing next to me in my darkest hours, despite of everything,

for your thorns cut me so deep I could barely breathe, yet still I loved you, I still longed for you, to be with me, both of us, surrounded in our own darkness. 

My moon wails, scattering the rain on me as I whisper your name... and you came, you kissed my tears and squeezed my heart as you sang your melancholy on me making reality and pain real for the suffering of the heart is more permanent and always present. 

I miss you, I miss your darkness, I miss our music that snatches our souls and bathes it in torrents of tears and lament.

Yes, I miss you.

Where is that stare of yours, those eyes that beheld me and all? You whispered goodbye, or was it me? 

I admired you, at candle light you spoke to the stars, at candle light you rested your hand on mine as the the haze of the smoke smothered the air, glass of red almost empty, begging to be refilled. 

Drown me in you, stop my heart and make it ashes and toss it into oblivion for I desire nothing from this earthly prison they call world, hold me tight in your embrace and take me to your realm of forgetfulness, take me there vanish me for ever


by jrqc


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Please feel free to write your feedback

Popular posts from this blog

LOVE'S ROMANTIC DEATH - NARRATIVE / SHORT STORY BY JRQC

For Martin, the simple act of getting up was a powerful force that translated into the sensation of morning freshness, as if his existence depended on it. And it was not in vain. He embodied one of those characters capable of making the mind and body flutter, a whirlwind infused with passion for everything representing beauty. When his eyes directly met yours, you felt exposed, as if an eternal flame shone in his honey-colored eyes. He seldom directed his gaze towards people while speaking, but when he did, you felt at his mercy, as if his eyes penetrated the walls of your soul and heart, leaving you exposed. However, I don't complain, as under the shelter of his aura and words, I felt the comforting warmth of that fiery gaze. His gaze intoxicated me, his words bathed me. Yes, that's Martin. That's him, the one I fell in love with. For him, life was a feast offering delicious delicacies and pleasures which he indulged in without distinction or regret. His strength pulled me...
Post a Comment
Read more

LIFE

Life is a joy. It makes our spirit grow and we shine our brightest colors, we fill our lives with music and then we fall in love and we try to make it all work, we try with all our might, we keep a smile on our faces and welcome all the bounties that sometimes life offers us.  But life also hurts, and when it does  we crumble down and then we just pick our pieces and put ourselves back together again. We are just broken pieces glued together walking here and there and yet, we manage to smile. We say hello and answer that we are ok, we just walk and continue moving on from everyday battles. Neverending battles. Is that we have left? Life is a gift, but I just wish I wasn't given it. Selfishness and cowardice perhaps come into play, but what can we say when those tears and heartaches seem not to go away? Again, we pick up whatever is left and somehow move on, we rebel against it all trying not to show our scars as we weather the storm, we grow, we move on. Life is beautiful. It ...
Post a Comment
Read more

LA CHICA DEL CALLEJÓN - Descripcion de personaje de ficcion - de jrqc

Ese día el sol brillaba como siempre, bañandola en su resplendor, tornando el color de su piel en tonos de miel y nuez. Su juventud perfumaba la calle y los ojos de los espectadores no la perdían de vista. Ella era simplemente la frescura de la primavera y el calor del verano combinadas casi perfectamente en las carnes y la figura de su cuerpo.  Sus senos firmes dejaban entrever las aureolas de la juventud, mientras sus piernas daban paso a ese menear característico de su coqueteo, al que daba rienda suelta así como su castaña y ondulada cabellera. Su mente anidaba la sed de ver el mundo, de ir más allá de embriagarse del placer que éste le pudiera ofrecer y sin escatimar en ambiciones y sueños ella simplemente se dejaba ir. Era la carencia de estas vivencias y posesiones que la presionaban a sumirse y ser esclava de ambiciones que a veces eran malsanas y mezquinas, pero a ella eso no le importaba. Deseaba agarrar al mundo y hacerle su esclavo, deseaba ser complacida y en su parece...
Post a Comment
Read more