The clock strikes midnight, the echoing chime spanning the wooden acres. Once, twice, thrice it takes her heart and carries the rhythm with it. Wandering alone for such a time has taken a hold on her mind.
.
In these enchanted woods she cannot find freedom,
Freedom that she does not know she has lost…
She is not alone, she is not the first,
Yet the others, she will not meet.
Left to wonder
Who am I?
Where am I?
What does it matter?
Why does this seem like home?
The forest is a prison for all who dared to love a man so dark. Time after time he shows the world that
Love is a weakness
That makes us sway
To and from, disregarding logic and why.
It goes as deep, coming from the soul,
Existing so as to ruin us all.
It is due to her weakness that she finds herself incarcerated among the spruce so vast that
Between the trunks
She can see for miles in every direction,
Row after row, acre past acre,
Yet an end in sight, there is not.
From time to time she swears she can see
The figure of another soul ever so lost as she.
Yet like the rainbows that avoid this land,
These shadows cannot be reached.
…
Thinking back to that fateful night, where he held her in his arm’s caress,
His fingers trailing up and down her side,
A touch so light she cannot help but to shudder.
He slides his arm up ever so slowly, over her *******
and onto her neck, gently applying more and more pressure.
Her will to fight is gone, as her legs begin to flail, shaking the bed as they do.
Blackness ensues and does not return until she wakes, perched against the spruce’s bark.
She no longer dreams, no longer sleeps, the woods keep her awake. Forever she wanders looking for the exit, or maybe for the source of the chimes that ring every night. She will never find it, she is destined to spend eternity wandering these woods alone, such is the effect of being trapped by a heart so strong.
