coolcucumber

It was not so. He loved me not. He could not bring himself to give, The love, which I sought. It could not be. You loved me neither. You could not find within yourself, The love, which I cried for.

She looked into his eyes; that sweet apologetic look, which every time she used drove him near tears. Douglas visioned the world, round and perfect until "BOOM!". Everything was gone. Nothing was left, but her. "This is the second time you have cursed me" His lips trembled. She was silent. "Do no seek a third.", he whispered harshly, his voice moulded with pain and betrayal. She opened her mouth. "Don't Speak!", he spat out. her lips began to form the smooth shape of a word. "Don't  Speak!!", he begged. She looked fragile, fragile as a flower. "You could never love me", he cried bitterly. "You would not!" She was too scared to mov

All his life he had always wished his circumstances could have been different. Sitting in the damp small but vast and empty cell had made it clearer than ever. The smell was musty and the solid stone was cold. The walls were towering over him, laughing at him, in a superior fashion. The window was menacing high above his head, chuckling softly to itself as it allowed the chilling night wind through. He was shivering; wearing only rags to keep out the cold.  His eyes were blue, with depth like water, shimmering in the light of the moon. His long, coarse, brown hair fell about his ears, passing to his shoulders like a river winding its way thr

Temptation - longing and yearning for your touch, to come , to be, to sing a sensation across my fingers, cheek and lips. Nerve-circulation - every single breath you exhale tickles goospebumps onto my skin, hair screaming in morbid celebration. Tormentation - you inflict and push upon my heart, until all the blood has been squeezed into the calipillaries of my stomach; curdling the juices as it licks your feet. But yet, you pull on me closer and closer until i'm so close to you that i fear my heart may crumble once more. Then you push, and you push and you push and you push, until i feel so cold and idiotic that i doubt that i can face th

I tear, and i tear at my heart. I will for it to crumble; no longer two bleeding segments but a pile of chalk. Ashes yearning to burn. Flames; fragments of a fire longing to wither the thoughts of those living. If only those volgorous flames would consume my mind; i live for the day these insane thoughts cease. I long for the moment my wings shrink into a cold pile of bitter salt. I visualise the feathers burning into cinders, the wings of a dove becoming mortal. Unfolding, i imagine the soft mysterious feathertips drowning into air. Then i disintergrate; tiny peices of a dream, floating on a wavelength of time. I feel the dust falling ont