She walks away, hair blowing back in the wind. Beautiful cannot describe her, for it makes her yet another beautiful one, while she is one. One of a kind. She is yours, or is she? You cannot own her, but you want her. You want to look into her eyes, drown in those bottomless pools. You want to make her smile, feel her approval as she looks upon you. But she is light chained, darkness fettered. She flows through your blood, mercury and molten metal. Cold tendrils running up your spine, heat flowing through your chest. Your head pounds and your feet are leaden. Lights flash infront of your eyes as you approach the brink, the very threshold. Time slows as colours become more vivid, pulsing and throbbing with a life of their own. She will break your heart, but you want her. Want her more than anything you've ever wanted...
Monday, 03 March 2008
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