A smile fades, broken, scared
Joyful eyes are closing no hope of opening again
Breaths are hitched, caught in the back of a sore and swollen throat
Hands rest by the side, loose and no longer moving
Running feet now still, in the air
Rosy cheeks now pale, dark in the royalty of purple
Pencil next to paper, cold from lack of use
Paper crumpled around the splintering wood unable to hold the correct words
An ocean of crimson rubies cover the toppled chair
Skin pale holding no color or sign of memories
Croaking stairs as feet climb to the top
A soft breeze by the open window
Creaking of a hinge only to be followed by a loud crack
Stiffness hung in the air, unable to move
A name called 1...2....3
A hand reaching out to hold what they cannot touch
Mind racing yet no movement is made
Like floodgates during a violent storm of rage eyes open
The creaking comes to a stop
Wind stops howling soft violent tunes
The mind still, lurking and waiting
Eyes widen as they move, a burnt wooden desk still pungent yet soothing
The chair still in its place, standing near the door
Hands grip the soft, soothing texture
A sigh, a breath, a welcoming, musical sound to the ear
A smile plays on the red lips
"Only a dream." It speaks "Only a memory."
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
A smile fades, broken, scared
Joyful eyes are closing no hope of opening again
Breaths are hitched, caught in the back of a sore and swollen throat
Hands rest by the side, loose and no longer moving
Running feet now still, in the air
Rosy cheeks now pale, dark in the royalty of purple
Pencil next to paper, cold from lack of use
Paper crumpled around the splintering wood unable to hold the correct words
An ocean of crimson rubies cover the toppled chair
Skin pale holding no color or sign of memories
Croaking stairs as feet climb to the top
A soft breeze by the open window
Creaking of a hinge only to be followed by a loud crack
Stiffness hung in the air, unable to move
A name called 1...2....3
A hand reaching out to hold what they cannot touch
Mind racing yet no movement is made
Like floodgates during a violent storm of rage eyes open
The creaking comes to a stop
Wind stops howling soft violent tunes
The mind still, lurking and waiting
Eyes widen as they move, a burnt wooden desk still pungent yet soothing
The chair still in its place, standing near the door
Hands grip the soft, soothing texture
A sigh, a breath, a welcoming, musical sound to the ear
A smile plays on the red lips
"Only a dream." It speaks "Only a memory."