As in a vision of beauty, electrifying. She was born of ivory, carved by the old lady Helena. A voice poured out as honey upon mine soul- temptation upon my heart. I cried out like rain for her to come sooth my pain. She didn't.
Still yet I feel the draw between us like something cosmic and indefinite. Her black pupils are infinitely deep as a pile of burning coals on the sandy edge.
She's music in my head, a tune that resonates from the side of my bed. She is a fiery sky, lit up against the darkest night. Outshined by none. Her gleam is ravaging as ever before seen from a dream... A dream that I dreamed greatly.
YOU ARE READING
A Long Way From Home
Non-FictionThis is a set of Flash Fiction stories, Internal Dialogs, and Brief Philosophy. All of which may be interpreted in various ways. And of course, all conjured up in my wildly dark mind.
