I walk on a carpet made of sand.
A pristine, blue ceiling over my head.
Turbulent waves hug the shoreline.
An embrace entombed in brine.
I look out into the vast, empty horizon.
Not a soul in sight.
An eerie silence engulfs me.
As it screams out in agony.
The crack of a bullet.
It rips through my chest.
And lodges itself into my soul.
I look away from the horizon with a quick turn of my head.
I look down at my feet.
Water, once clear, steadily turns red.
The warm hue of the setting sun
bathed her skin in amber.
As a defiant lock of her flowing hair
Braved the wind and danced across her cheek.
It was all I could do to not reach out and touch her face.
Never before had I yearned for something so simple.
To flow like the breeze.
The tranquil petals of a crimson tulip
met the violent embrace of a ferocious wind.
The wind moved on
as the petals lay in a crimson pool.
Neither the wind nor the flower was to blame.
Beauty died quietly that day.
Not a word uttered. Nothing to say.
— The End —