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They ask me if I ever loved someone.
Emotionally concealed by a sorrow-shattered smile, I tell them the light is yet to be turned on…
It’s very difficult, trying to live with the harsh reality of wishing your life away as the precious seconds tick pain-stakingly by. The hardened oak structure of the bar is the only implement that can support my torn body. I take another sip from the glass next to me, stacked against the others, resembling a squadron of elite soldiers men, created from my ever-deepening chasm of depression. I can physically feel shards of my lungs dissolve into nothingness as I put the cigarette to my mouth once again, and cough out angry sighs of sorrow, misted within a cloud of wafting smoke. The others stare on. Yes, their lives may resolve around heavy hour sessions in the bar, playing snooker and smoking a pack of fags, but at least when they do manage to drag their wasting frames out of the pub, they have a loving family to crawl home to.
If I was in that situation, I wouldn’t be talking to you.
I can still feel her delicate palms clasped within mine. Her rustic hair, twisted into unique yet beautiful patterns still brushes against the sun beaten skin that layers my aging face. And that smile, that smile was something special. One quick glance was enough for it’s blossoming power to tear any man’s soul to shreds, and place you upon an emotional collision course that gushed ever lasting love through your every vein. She’s still her now. Only now I have to look much, much harder to see her. My blood-struck eyes that blaze like rose bushes on a fine summer’s day need the aid of my aching soul these days to catch a glimpse of her eternal beauty.
I can still hear the heart-shattering cry, and that ear-piercing thud to the ground that echoed throughout the night sky like a captured beast’s cry, while her bruised face at the Ward melted my soul like butter oozing from toast. I have searched mildly for that ‘other woman’, but it’s not the same. Each and every one of us is assigned to meet the ‘true one’ before we are twinkles in our father’s eyes, whether or not the bond results in a happy every after or drives the unlucky partner to the darkest and most painful depths of sorrow and despair.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ll see her again soon. For real now, not whilst the barricade of reality and fantasy proves an impossible hurdle to manoeuvre. Just a couple more sips of this ale. Just a few more puffs of this ciggy. What was once my place, is now my darkest enemy, churning me within and filling me with an agony so cruel, I cannot put into words it’s devastating effect. I can hear her soft beckons sometimes, escaping the land of eternity, and although no words elapse my coal-charred lips, I know my soul is telling her it won’t be long.
If he hadn’t been going over the speed limit, I wouldn’t have to do this…
Emotionally concealed by a sorrow-shattered smile, I tell them the light is yet to be turned on…
It’s very difficult, trying to live with the harsh reality of wishing your life away as the precious seconds tick pain-stakingly by. The hardened oak structure of the bar is the only implement that can support my torn body. I take another sip from the glass next to me, stacked against the others, resembling a squadron of elite soldiers men, created from my ever-deepening chasm of depression. I can physically feel shards of my lungs dissolve into nothingness as I put the cigarette to my mouth once again, and cough out angry sighs of sorrow, misted within a cloud of wafting smoke. The others stare on. Yes, their lives may resolve around heavy hour sessions in the bar, playing snooker and smoking a pack of fags, but at least when they do manage to drag their wasting frames out of the pub, they have a loving family to crawl home to.
If I was in that situation, I wouldn’t be talking to you.
I can still feel her delicate palms clasped within mine. Her rustic hair, twisted into unique yet beautiful patterns still brushes against the sun beaten skin that layers my aging face. And that smile, that smile was something special. One quick glance was enough for it’s blossoming power to tear any man’s soul to shreds, and place you upon an emotional collision course that gushed ever lasting love through your every vein. She’s still her now. Only now I have to look much, much harder to see her. My blood-struck eyes that blaze like rose bushes on a fine summer’s day need the aid of my aching soul these days to catch a glimpse of her eternal beauty.
I can still hear the heart-shattering cry, and that ear-piercing thud to the ground that echoed throughout the night sky like a captured beast’s cry, while her bruised face at the Ward melted my soul like butter oozing from toast. I have searched mildly for that ‘other woman’, but it’s not the same. Each and every one of us is assigned to meet the ‘true one’ before we are twinkles in our father’s eyes, whether or not the bond results in a happy every after or drives the unlucky partner to the darkest and most painful depths of sorrow and despair.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ll see her again soon. For real now, not whilst the barricade of reality and fantasy proves an impossible hurdle to manoeuvre. Just a couple more sips of this ale. Just a few more puffs of this ciggy. What was once my place, is now my darkest enemy, churning me within and filling me with an agony so cruel, I cannot put into words it’s devastating effect. I can hear her soft beckons sometimes, escaping the land of eternity, and although no words elapse my coal-charred lips, I know my soul is telling her it won’t be long.
If he hadn’t been going over the speed limit, I wouldn’t have to do this…
Excellent - like was said, very good word choices that made the story more vivid.
Yes, I like. Enjoyed the words.
Heh, cheers.
I've been listening to alot of X&Y these days. Beautiful, but not the most upbeat of albums around.
I don't know why, I just seem to prefer writing in a negative style. Happy ever afters don't seem to do it for me.
God I lead such a depressing childhood...
I've been listening to alot of X&Y these days. Beautiful, but not the most upbeat of albums around.
I don't know why, I just seem to prefer writing in a negative style. Happy ever afters don't seem to do it for me.
God I lead such a depressing childhood...
Beautifully written, I enjoyed that, though it was mighty depressing...
They ask me if I ever loved someone.
Emotionally concealed by a sorrow-shattered smile, I tell them the light is yet to be turned on…
It’s very difficult, trying to live with the harsh reality of wishing your life away as the precious seconds tick pain-stakingly by. The hardened oak structure of the bar is the only implement that can support my torn body. I take another sip from the glass next to me, stacked against the others, resembling a squadron of elite soldiers men, created from my ever-deepening chasm of depression. I can physically feel shards of my lungs dissolve into nothingness as I put the cigarette to my mouth once again, and cough out angry sighs of sorrow, misted within a cloud of wafting smoke. The others stare on. Yes, their lives may resolve around heavy hour sessions in the bar, playing snooker and smoking a pack of fags, but at least when they do manage to drag their wasting frames out of the pub, they have a loving family to crawl home to.
If I was in that situation, I wouldn’t be talking to you.
I can still feel her delicate palms clasped within mine. Her rustic hair, twisted into unique yet beautiful patterns still brushes against the sun beaten skin that layers my aging face. And that smile, that smile was something special. One quick glance was enough for it’s blossoming power to tear any man’s soul to shreds, and place you upon an emotional collision course that gushed ever lasting love through your every vein. She’s still her now. Only now I have to look much, much harder to see her. My blood-struck eyes that blaze like rose bushes on a fine summer’s day need the aid of my aching soul these days to catch a glimpse of her eternal beauty.
I can still hear the heart-shattering cry, and that ear-piercing thud to the ground that echoed throughout the night sky like a captured beast’s cry, while her bruised face at the Ward melted my soul like butter oozing from toast. I have searched mildly for that ‘other woman’, but it’s not the same. Each and every one of us is assigned to meet the ‘true one’ before we are twinkles in our father’s eyes, whether or not the bond results in a happy every after or drives the unlucky partner to the darkest and most painful depths of sorrow and despair.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ll see her again soon. For real now, not whilst the barricade of reality and fantasy proves an impossible hurdle to manoeuvre. Just a couple more sips of this ale. Just a few more puffs of this ciggy. What was once my place, is now my darkest enemy, churning me within and filling me with an agony so cruel, I cannot put into words it’s devastating effect. I can hear her soft beckons sometimes, escaping the land of eternity, and although no words elapse my coal-charred lips, I know my soul is telling her it won’t be long.
If he hadn’t been going over the speed limit, I wouldn’t have to do this…
Emotionally concealed by a sorrow-shattered smile, I tell them the light is yet to be turned on…
It’s very difficult, trying to live with the harsh reality of wishing your life away as the precious seconds tick pain-stakingly by. The hardened oak structure of the bar is the only implement that can support my torn body. I take another sip from the glass next to me, stacked against the others, resembling a squadron of elite soldiers men, created from my ever-deepening chasm of depression. I can physically feel shards of my lungs dissolve into nothingness as I put the cigarette to my mouth once again, and cough out angry sighs of sorrow, misted within a cloud of wafting smoke. The others stare on. Yes, their lives may resolve around heavy hour sessions in the bar, playing snooker and smoking a pack of fags, but at least when they do manage to drag their wasting frames out of the pub, they have a loving family to crawl home to.
If I was in that situation, I wouldn’t be talking to you.
I can still feel her delicate palms clasped within mine. Her rustic hair, twisted into unique yet beautiful patterns still brushes against the sun beaten skin that layers my aging face. And that smile, that smile was something special. One quick glance was enough for it’s blossoming power to tear any man’s soul to shreds, and place you upon an emotional collision course that gushed ever lasting love through your every vein. She’s still her now. Only now I have to look much, much harder to see her. My blood-struck eyes that blaze like rose bushes on a fine summer’s day need the aid of my aching soul these days to catch a glimpse of her eternal beauty.
I can still hear the heart-shattering cry, and that ear-piercing thud to the ground that echoed throughout the night sky like a captured beast’s cry, while her bruised face at the Ward melted my soul like butter oozing from toast. I have searched mildly for that ‘other woman’, but it’s not the same. Each and every one of us is assigned to meet the ‘true one’ before we are twinkles in our father’s eyes, whether or not the bond results in a happy every after or drives the unlucky partner to the darkest and most painful depths of sorrow and despair.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ll see her again soon. For real now, not whilst the barricade of reality and fantasy proves an impossible hurdle to manoeuvre. Just a couple more sips of this ale. Just a few more puffs of this ciggy. What was once my place, is now my darkest enemy, churning me within and filling me with an agony so cruel, I cannot put into words it’s devastating effect. I can hear her soft beckons sometimes, escaping the land of eternity, and although no words elapse my coal-charred lips, I know my soul is telling her it won’t be long.
If he hadn’t been going over the speed limit, I wouldn’t have to do this…