There was one.
A young man,
Smart, confident, eloquent.
Lost.
Popular, the leader of the pack
Yet courage doesn't always roar, and neither did he
Strong whispers echo with thunderous force
He is the humble king;
What he says goes.
But he did not mean it this way,
Did not ask.
Such responsibility is a heavy handed task.
He wanders amongst his squires and compatriots
The omniscient light in a realm of darkness,
Bringer of love, and peace and hope.
But inside of him these emotions have been abducted
By the predatory tenebrosity of his own mind.
An everlasting, ****** battle takes place
But who is to be deemed victor if he is fighting himself?
There was another
A young lady.
Smart, confident, eloquent.
Withdrawn.
Her desperate need to please others saw her relegated to the outskirts of society
Clingy and desperate, when it suited them,
Helpful and irreplaceable another day.
Until she'd had enough
And cast herself away in exile,
From anyone and everyone.
She sought to make herself invisible,
After all, you cannot plunge a sword into the heart of one you cannot see.
This she knew was her blessing and her curse
Her savior and her foe
And just like that she was back to square one
The girl they had pushed and pulled,
Until she was permanently subdued,
A mere ghost of the exuberant being she was before
Then one day
The wandering souls fused in spectacular fashion
His bright beam illuminating the corners to which she had receded
A meeting on extempore, of broken hearts, broken minds.
They looked deep into each others minds,
Their internal recesses open
Showing a continuous film of horrific abuse
Damaged products drawn together
And then
There were two.
A young man and woman,
Whose lives became intertwined like weeds in flower beds
Twisting and wrapping, suffocating and strangling
Choking with a vice like grip
Unable to breathe, having to fill each others lungs
Company was no longer a want, but a need
If they were to survive, it would be together.
This mangled and gnarled love was anything but smooth sailing
But it was worth the struggles and continuous setbacks for those few moments of bliss.
Moments when responsibilities and pain and direction were forgotten
Where being lost was okay, because neither of them knew were they were going
The pain would subside, the revolting stench disguised by the scent of love.
And happiness and hope were tangible.
Still there were two
Yet she knew not what to do
Thoughts raced through her mind in befuddling fashion
Like a horse who hears a gunshot
She panicked.
The distance, her safety blanket was long gone
But she had only just realised her guard was down
White flag waved
That her path took her into the firing range
Where he was behind the gun.
A vow came to mind
A self-promise that she would never hurt again
And if she were,
It would be by noone but her
So
She ran, knowing it would crush the life out of him
A mother leaving her child in the wicker basket
A father saying he would be right back,
And never returning.
She was all these things and more;
Thief or plunderer would be an accurate description.
And then there was
Well, there was not much
For when she left, she took most of him with her
His shell remained seated, waiting patiently for her return
Even after day three thousand, when he had become a brobdignagian mass of dirt, grime and hope.
That's all he had left; hope.
For nothing else but her reappearance.
Life; he had given up long ago.
But he never gave up on their reunion;
on the opportunity, if only briefly to return to the bliss, the joy,
The exhilaration of his eyes locked onto hers,
Both so broken they could only maintain for a few moments.
He never gave up
Until he too, was gone.
And then there were none.