AlahraNadal

I. Laying in the bed. I lay my head on your chest and listen to your breathing. Rhythmically you breathe in as I breathe out. Your hand at the small of my back, Massaging, relaxing. I feel your breath rustle my hair. Your soft lips brush my cheek And you sigh. (But it’s all so fake) II. I lay my head on my pillow. You lay across from me, close enough to touch. I search your blue eyes, The color of the ocean, For some clue to what you’re thinking. But I can’t see anything beyond that sparkle and smile. You whisper to me and mess my hair. Laughing softly you grab my hand and caress my wrist. I smile and pray th

Absolute end Nervously playing with her half chewed fingers stuttering her words under her greeved breath "whats wrong?" I softly said my soft words frightened her half to death her plush red cheeks seem to loose their colour as I battle to hear a word that she did utter her tears now rolling down those cold colourless cheeks she looks up at me with her blood shot guilt ridden eyes in that life-emptying moment an eternity passed me by her soulless heart broken eyes told the whole adulterous story my once untempered heart erupted with a violent roar five years of our lives you wasted what was it all for All I breathed was your s

♦ Summer thunderstorms rip into the dead of night and your nerves begin to sing. Their rain would kiss your closed lids in the way the snow caressed your lashes while the pools of streetlight turned that snow the softest rose-gold. Crickets begin to sing into the dusk, and you lie back on the grass while fireflies flicker above you. The air is laced with woodsmoke and you still wish on that first star when it cigaretteburns through velour skies [no matter how old you get]. ♠ The lighthouse flashes across the bay and bonfires, ancient reflexes to the stretching nights, begin to warm the shore. Their embers rise and as you watch

You found out one sunsweet day that dreams can, in fact, be impossible. In the next moment you became a star at dawn, and now you’re fading into meat scraps strung on butcher-rack bones. You’ve realized you were raised on such lies. They fed you all the classics; the easter bunny, santa, god. You can deal with those being fantasy, but that “love” one was just cruel.    Mama told you, while weaving through downtown traffic, not to love anything that couldn’t love you back. Well, you’re sorry, but apparently the heart doesn’t speak english, because yours didn’t get her message. There