SnowOctober

The cackle was prolonged and when silence   came, I fought my way  back to a fire - like life, unforgettable in the midst   of so much doubt. I swallowed and plunged deep into the blue crater   which called out with purpose, desperate like thunder from the heavens. Relentless,   focused, we cherished each moment together, but, alas, not even a legend's   fortune is infinite. Yes. Alas, indeed.

Mystified by my reaction, thinking of his being, the feeling of warm embraces me and leaves me smiling giggling hugging myself in the joyful arrays of hope. Hope that he will love me, and trust that he is worth the risk. By why? His smile, the perfect gasp of a surprised chuckle, how my heart flutters when it's loud than that - a chuckle - when it's full enough to be called laughter. His protection, how I will myself not to need it, yet how I need it so cherish it so - the way it makes me feel, like my words are worth a nickel. His humor, the way sarcasm is in his bones, and I always crack a smile no matter my mood no matter how annoying.

A missing sense, Lingering still, Blanketing fears From childhood days. A minute to fly, As I stare at the twist, Dead in the eye, Quiet sparkles bellow. The shard of hope, Wishes made upon, Years ago, From childhood days. Silent drops, Full of confusion, A mixture of faith, A mixture of breaking. Falling before, Before I'm caught, From dancing with sins, From childhood days. Place the glass Into the knot, The knot holding sagged dreams. The dreams that happened Down the street. The street From childhood days.

Whispers that never lay at rest have watched us burning, Take to lust. A child's fears in pools of yearning, The dread of hearing what I know is worse than murder. The murder in which you've planted in my chest. Neatness pulling sharp through veins, Stitches that you cut so mercilessly, With the perfection of an artisan, A poor traveling craftman. "I make things by hand," he said. And so you took your inspiration.

There is a power, A pull between sisters, It's the reason why I write, The explanation to me. So tell me why it's not the same, Or why you just can't see. Why I'm so empty, What's made me so thin. You may not understand, How this isn't helping the lights. They speed past you behind my eyes, And turn your clone to stone. People only hallucinate seeing me, Because I can not really breathe, No one really hears me speak. My brain's been tossed, Spiced with leaves and roots. Those roots came from somewhere in you, My sister in covers, Roots that claw my skin and tear me down, Farther than the depths of Hell.

If it is fear that we fear, Anger that makes us angry, Sadness that makes us sad, Are we ashamed to be ashamed? Off the top of my head, I can't think nor feel. A beanie to keep my thoughts from fleeing, Because not even they want to see what's here. Would you stay if I showed you? Would you love me still? My darkness and my scars, My loveless and my blood? Il me dit, What a silly girl you are. Pourqoui? Don't you want me? If I pushed you out, Tried to shove you away from my nightmares, Who would be the one to come back, To show up to my grave?

The feeling, coiled up in his gut, pulsed and pierced him repeatedly. It stung him horribly, and yet he thought it was the most beautiful experience he'd ever had. For the woman before him was beautiful, her baby blue eyes closed for forever, her golden hair in ringlets that cascaded elegantly around her cheeks. He laid a hand on one of those cheeks, tears pouring down his own without a sound. "My life and my pride," he whispered inside. "'My wife and my bride,'" he quoted for her ears. Her chill was over, and her pain was over, made into a veil and given to this man. He would keep it and cry, a smile forever glad for her sickness fina

My distaste for the man who wields no power as such, with the namesake of his own religion's strongest warrior next to God. And, oh, the sour enmity that lands on my tongue when I admit his relationship to my bloodline, the pulsating aversion in my brain when I spot him in my yard. What must I do to outdo myself from this forlorn curse? How can I possibly act as my sister and naturally feel as though I've done no wrong, as though it is unfair of me to refuse him as my family? I hold my tongue, though, less called a liar. He remembers. Even more do I open my mouth when I hear the way he disrespects the woman who is stronger than Earth. This