I wrote this after I had a dream about what felt like love. I had gone through the day thinking it had actually happened, but I couldn't recall her face, and so I realized it hadn't happened. I was oddly heartbroken..
its like being caught in a firestorm that you cant get out of
its like not being able to get what you want; its right there in front of you and you can see it so clearly and its beautiful, just like you always thought, but you can't have it
i have felt what i longed for, and it was in an insane form of diabolical bliss, but now i have to wait for it again, except now i know exactly what im waiting for, and it doesn't make it easier.
from the nether:
The lengthy fingertips of her memory come back every now and then to make my strength wain and my peace diminish. I seek a permanent peace but I cannot find it and my heart is at my feet, begging these iron tears to stop battering it into more pieces. One of me says that it's fascinating to be able to feel a translucent warmth, while the rest of me suffers under the weight of longing....
It's the smile that I miss, and the wind in her hair, cooling my fingers as they glided so gently through it. The sun made her glow, and her eyes shimmered... as if she even needed that to make her beauty captivating. The body I carried home was only a husk of what I loved. No kiss goodbye..
Every time that I remember her and become depressed, anger almost always follows. I'm angry at myself because I can't forget or find peace, and sometimes I even try to convince myself that I'm angry at her for not letting my sould rest. Her fingers.... I can feel them reaching out to me, but I do not see them, I do not know how to grasp them. They are phantasmal, blue, cold, but warm. Tempting beydond anything I've ever felt, but what of others who loved her?
The frozen mother, the father against the wall, not sure how to stand up. I'm not sure how they thought to tend to me after carrying the corpse of their daughter from me. I don't think that they should have... and I wish for the same thing. There is no depression, but there is a heartfelt longing and my entire body feels compelled to grasp the intangible hands of the phantom. I must follow them to wherever they come from..
