Beautiful madness

Beautiful madness

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing13m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Mar 2, 2017
-Sequel to Scars forever- ''That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, and with thee fade away into the forest dim: fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget what thou among the leaves hast never known, the weariness, the fever and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other's groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, where youth grows pale and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow and leaden-eyed despairs, where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow.'' - John Keats, Ode to Nightingale The good in him faded far away, dissolved and forgotten. Now, he sits on his throne. His lips gleaming with fresh blood. The warmth of it temporarily casts away the chill around him but not his frozen heart. Cruelty and disdain were now his closest friends and his lovers. His dark hair faded into grey and his eyes - once warm and tender - are now cold and red in his anger. Time has quickly passed. But for immortals like him, a century is like a blink of an eye. Time did not heal him. Time brought only infection of his wound. It spread around his heart like dark ink on paper. Can something so rotten be saved? Be preserved? Rotting fruits only have one future - decay.
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I look up at him, his face nothing but a hazy memory. His head is tilted down towards me and I think about how odd it must be for him too. If we kissed, would we find each other's lips? Would it be as natural as breathing? He's mere inches from me and just the presence of his body is suffocating. I don't even have to see his face to know how well he makes my body react. Goosebumps trickling down my arms, and the hairs on the back of my neck rising like sunflowers facing the sun. It's as if I can really see his face. His features and the looks he gives. It's so familiar, so in-tune with me, that I feel like I've always seen it. I can feel his eyes set on me, my figure under his gaze. I can feel the tension in the air and I'm not even sure if I'm breathing. "That necklace around your neck," he scoffs. "What about it?" I ask, my voice low. "I've seen it every single time I've seen you and it drives me insane. It's the one thing I can see below your face." Something clicks into place for me. The puzzle pieces align, and I feel alive. "Then take it off and put your hand there, I can wear that instead," I grin. __ Scarlett Moore. A university student trying to make it past the struggles of life, friends, and a love life labeled hell. But to her aid, a man from her dreams clouds her mind and a little too much of her heart. Every night he visits her, comforting her from a cruel world and harsh realities. The life she lives with him in her sleep becoming a little too real. Just how attached is she to a man who isn't even real? What happens when she can't tell the difference between a memory and a fantasy? __

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