I find a vine, attached to my feet. The needle that I've never noticed clawed at me. The leaves above are gone and a grey cloud is coming my way.
From a distance, I see his branches inching away from me. I'm slowly sinking into the quicksand and a figure appears.
It's all too familiar.
I don't want to embrace it.
The colour drains rapidly from my being as I desperately grasp on what's left of it. I see where the colours are heading and I feel dizzy.
My whole world collapse as his grow bigger and wraps around her.
YOU ARE READING
HIM
Poetry[Highest: #994 in poetry lol] He's exotic and eccentric. The way he speaks, the way he moves: so gracefully but also so carelessly. As is the way his spirit is childish and interesting but aged and mundane. He's a mystery I'm starting to get hooked...
