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The Muse
I know you're there. I still hear your laugh
At the bottom of that crystal lake
Among the frozen blossoms, deep into the cave.
Where you hide your dreams.
Where your cries are forever echoed
And lost in the silent shores.
I know you're there. I still feel your touch.
At the place only we knew.
Among the happy crowd and the lovely view
Where your hand held mine
Where your embrace felt right
And I lost myself all over again that night.
I know you're there. I still see your dance.
At the classic theater stage
Among the masks and the ballgowns
Where your mind was clouded with wine and music.
Where your gracefulness unfurled
And lost the will to resist the pas de deux.
I know you're there. I still smell your scent
At that small chamber of light
Among the pieces and installations
Where the fresh paint hazed your soul
Where a sniff of your perfume caught me off guard
And I lost my mind into a savage frenzy.
I know you're there. I still taste your love.
At that dark and vengeful castle
Among the birds that sang the chorus
Where your mouth failed to speak
Where your fiery language dropped into a deafening silence.
And you lost your tears when your berry-stained lips crashed into mine.
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'She-She's gone.' His voice broke. His body was uncontrollably shaking as he sobbed, almost as if in pain.The note that smelled of strawberries still fresh in his hands. A single photograph fell from it. There, even just for a tiny bit, his mind was filled with memories.
'Who's gone?' Her voice was laced with anger. Her eyes were on him, ready to attack him at any moment like a lioness on the hunt.
'She's gone.' His voice was tinged with bittersweet misery. 'My Sunday Girl.'
YOU ARE READING
Sunday Girl
Teen Fiction"People will often blissfully lie to themselves, preferring to ignore the harsh truth of others and choose to love their own selfish ideas of them instead." ------------------------ A fairytale filled with lies. His life was bland and uninspiring, w...
