The remnants of the night tend to linger in my clothes;
the scent of liquor won’t leave my vest,
nor will that girl’s perfume, who was trying her best
my favorite shirt still smells of cigarette smoke,
or the drunken breath of the older bloke
the unsynchronised beats of the music failed to entice me
no sweat seeped into my skirt, I didn’t set myself free
nor did I get lost in the ogling man’s eyes,
turning him down was his most unpleasant surprise
I didn’t come close to anyone’s lips,
that reeked of mistakes and unfortunate slips
I went home with a friend, who remained by my side
kissed him good night, let everything else slide
And the following morning, when only memories remain
I can wash out the proof of their existence, though to me, it’s all the same
Because at least I can make all these disappear,
while you, I cannot
you are always right here
in my mind, never to be forgot
Water flows into deep pores
Pressure builds, Rhythm builds
From a still, to splash, life initiates
a drama, a scene, never the same
It may look mundane,
stale to some, look again
paths have slightly moved
people aged a little,
life belittles, our ignorance
She tries to scream. Pain. It’s everywhere. In her, on her; everywhere. A constant pressure weighing down on her; unwavering. Tears flow down her face as she surfaces to consciousness. Adan has pushed the wolf off of Mary. This pain is like a tidal wave ready to crash over the girl; ready to destroy her.
Her teeth clench together to stop herself from voicing how the pain burns like fire in her chest, detonating in her skull with each beat of her heart. Her mind screams for the agony to stop. She curls into a ball, covering her head as her fingers tear at her bloodstained, blond hair. Her limbs convulse as a stabbing pain knifes through her from the inside. Small, pitiful whispers of pure, white-hot agony slip past her lips without consent. Death was coming for her, and it would come as a blessing. She closes her eyes, waiting for it to take over; needing this to end. Her body convulses yet again, and she cries out.
Suddenly, a hand grabs her own, causing her to focus on it and the soft voice whispering to her. His voice. Her pounding heart calms, but barely, for another wave of agony shoots through her like a bullet out of a gun. She clings to him with both hands; grasping for the thin thread of life she has left, gasping for air that is no longer in her lungs. She feels him pull her close; cradling her in his arms. She focuses on his words; they are drawing her into a calm bliss. Her screams fade to whispers as she clings to his shirt while his arms hold her. Both the young man and his love are shaking terribly, the pain threatening to drag them both under once more. He knows he will lose her. Mary breathes once. She feels Adan wiping the fevered sweat from her brow, his hand gentle and cool to the touch. He whispers her name, telling her it’s ok to let go; she does not want to. She barely manages to whisper her answer, choking up with pain. She won’t give up; not now, but she know better than anyone that she is done for. Mary feels him nod silently as he strokes hair slowly, running his fingers through the snarls gently. It calms her. She tells him to not let her fall asleep with a quivering voice, but her eyes grow heavy. The pain is unbearable, and she feels herself slipping from consciousness. She hears him whisper that he loves her; Mary faintly feel Adan shaking as his head rests on hers. She reaches out to comfort him as she feels his tears fall on her face, but her hand slips from his, and then all fades to black.
Adan sobs loudly holding her body. Mary is gone. And so is his child. He has lost everything, and he is stranded in these woods without another soul in the universe knowing where he is. He is wounded badly, his leg twisted and bent at awkward angles, the bone protruding from the skin, blood swiftly emptying from his veins as his heart pumps it out of him.
Weakly, Adan gently moves to grab his knife away from Mary. Clutching the hilt with both hands, he weighs his options:
If he survives? A life without Mary, their baby, and constant pain?
If he ends it here and now there would be no pain, only bliss?
Sighing, the heartbroken boy wipes his tears away and puts the knife in his coat while fighting off the dizziness that fills his head as he tears apart his shirt. Cutting off the circulation to his leg will have to work, even if it meant losing it. He will survive, he thinks to himself determinedly. He will survive for her.
Okay why does WordPress never give views for like? If someone just like your post but didn’t necessarily go on your homepage or went on the direct link to your post you don’t get a view. Don’t get me wrong I really appreciate whenever someone like my post. It give you this weird warm feeling inside and it show people care and people like what you like. My biggest problem is when the people that follows you like your stuff and it really doesn’t matter view wise unless when they rarely go to your homepage. I am sure other people probably have complained about this is something I find really weird.doesn’t it make sense that if someone like your stuff it means they viewed your stuff? I might be missing something here I don’t know. It’s like saying I liked a car video without even seeing it. make no sense to be but whatever.