Where She Lies

Where She Lies

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Aug 12, 2013
She might be gone now but the guilt lives on. It taunts my dreams and haunt my days. It's neither a stubborn nightmare or a recurring memory, it's just fate's twisted sense of humor. Or shall I say it's karma? It tighten it's hold against my throat as days gone by, till the final breath of life has left me. Slowly but steadily karma will take it's toll.
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I made a promise, a commitment, a vow, and an oath that I'd never fall into the brutality they call love ever again, as it is something not to be toyed with. Think of it this way: Love is like a scented candle. The candle stick and the waxed aroma make the candle itself. Then it's ignited by a great inferno, and together, they make a beautiful thing. It burns for a long time, but then it loses that flame, that spark that ignited the creature. I guess the two most important ingredients gave up on each other. "Love" can be a metaphor, a simile, but most of all, a promise. A promise that can't be kept, something that waits until infinity to be broken. At least that's what I, Roseabella Swayed, once believed.

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