Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"Come on. It's not that bad." A hand reaches out of the darkness. The urgency in his voice encourages me to grasp it. Panoramic city view hits at full force. Our eyes meet. His pupils are so dilated I can no longer see the clear, calming blue. Another wave comes on as I turn around. The roof pulses. The stars swirl. A look back hungers for a connection that is not met. He is absorbed by his own mind. Foot over foot. Step over step. Curiosity over fear. Six stories down, the path continues on. Impulses form, gather, consume-- The Call of the Void. His screams are the last beautiful noises to fill my ears. Or maybe they're my own.
0
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
L'appel du vide
"Come on. It's not that bad." A hand reaches out of the darkness. The urgency in his voice encourages me to grasp it. Panoramic city view hits at full force. Our eyes meet. His pupils are so dilated I can no longer see the clear, calming blue. Another wave comes on as I turn around. The roof pulses. The stars swirl. A look back hungers for a connection that is not met. He is absorbed by his own mind. Foot over foot. Step over step. Curiosity over fear. Six stories down, the path continues on. Impulses form, gather, consume-- The Call of the Void. His screams are the last beautiful noises to fill my ears. Or maybe they're my own.
heather-plate
Written by
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem