This grey-black cloud above my head, these worn stones beneath my feet. With the wind tearing at my hair it makes it hard to breathe.
I walk this desolate forest, the trees worn by age. The path tracked over years by my feet.
I can hear your song on the breeze here, your laughter in the rippling of the leaves.
I have whispered my loneliness to the trees. I have wept in the shadows beneath them. But still I walk alone. Even after all these years, still I wait, for you.
YOU ARE READING
Realisation
General FictionUp, up, up. And out, and out, and out. Out until your finger tips touch the stars. Until theres no room left for breath. The shadows and the hurting. Only stars. And it's calm. And calm and calm and calm. It's calm and you breathe and you breathe. T...