An explosion, thats what it felt like. Your eyes overcome with the new, Colours and shapes and styles. The buildings are all rather bright, Brighter than my home, or old home now. The streets cleaner than any others. No cars either, just bikes and small carriages drawn by black mares. The lights were unusual as well, Purple in hue, dimmer than normal and all lined up down the wide street. Then there is the birds, hundreds of them. Parrots, toucans, all tropical and loud in appearance. They roam the city like the owners of a grand castle.
I’ve never been in a place like this before. Never been in a place so full of life and of an energy that is indescribable. This city reminds me of a supernova. An explosion of a bright star that was once full of small, pigmented patches. Those patches which now cover the city, Cover the people, Cover the lifestyle.
My love for you oozes out of my being, Like ink from a pen. For I could never stop loving you, Till the end of all men.
Life passes quickly, quicker for some, But with you it feels endless. Anything I do with you, It leaves me feeling senseless.
I wouldn’t mind sitting in silence with you, For it is not a silence. It is a conversation simply without words, But instead speaking of hearts.
Then again, love doesn’t always last, For my heart does hold scars, And my brain holds scorned memories.
I watched him leave, I watched him tear my heart in two. I saw the man I love with all my heart walk away as if I was worthless. As if I was a used cup that was no longer needed. Only good for one thing. He flared his claws and set a target on my heart. He snarled at me, teeth lengthening. Where had my love gone? Where had the sweet boy who lovingly embraced my heart disappeared to? Who had turned my man into a beast? And when did my man become a monster? When does any man become a monster? Is it after heartbreak? Yet all I did was love. Is it due to trauma? Yet he had the perfect childhood. Is it after immense depression? Yet he was the happiest in every room. Was it me? Is it my fault? Tell me, When does a man become a monster?
“MUM HAVE YOU SEEN MY BOOK?” I yelled downstairs. Frantically, I pulled everything off my shelf in a search for my book. The book I’ve poured my heart and soul into for the past two years has gone missing and you can probably tell I’m not happy about it. It’s like I can feel the clock ticking away, eating the seconds I have before we have to get in the car and go. Mum hasn’t even replied, probably busying herself with sorting out the cats, Mitsy and Polly. I carried on trashing my bedroom to pieces so small they make smashed glass look like planets. I ran my hands through my blonde, bobbed hair and tried to recall the last time I had it. I had it in school, then at home fitting the cover, then…. Ah that’s where it was. In the fridge.
The old bookstore had always been my escape, but today it felt different, almost magical. The ancient timber framwork rose high above my head as I walked through the doors and Miss Pat waved at me from behind the desk. I waved back, smiling, before going towards my usual chair. It was one of the biggest chairs in the giant library. It was a rich, velvety green colour and had dark, mahogany arms that rolled over the edge to make it the comfiest chair I’ve ever had the pleasure to sit in. Sighing, I took a seat, sinking into the plush cushion and pulling the small, patchwork quilt over my legs that propped themselves on the small stool. Eagerly, I grabbed my book out my bag and thats when I felt that magic again. I ran my hands back over the arms of the chair, feeling an almost euphoric sensation. It was as if the library was greeting me. Shaking my head and blaming my silly imagination, I returned to my book, Daughter of a Dragon Trainer, opening it to where I’d placed my bookmark. I began to read, the story seeping into ny soul and that’s when I heard a small huff. And then there was smoke. A small, grey cloud of it that seemed to shimmer with silver round the edges. My eyes turned slowly to see a very cute, very purple dragon! I gasped with disbelief, recognising the creature from my book instantly. Rich purple scales and huge wings and fiery, orange eyes that were almost as big as its face. Or her face should I say. “Hi Millie.” I whispered, not wanting to scare her off. Surprisingly, she came straight to my hand and seemed to be smiling as she nuzzled up against it. Then she squealed with glee and another puff of smoke appeared. “Shall we go on an adventure?” I asked, “Like your story?” She nodded, nudging the book open to the map of this fantasy world seemingly come true. “Onwards my little Millie!” I laughed and it seemed like she was laughing to and she took my hand and began to fly. Up, up and away….
She walked down the road, her pink stilettos nearly tripping her up on her floor-lengthed, stark white fur coat. A snarl was set into her face, like a pitbull ready to attack, and everyone she pushed past looked uncomfortable upon its presence. Suddenly Mildred’s phone rang, “Yes…..oh you backstabbing…….I’m not bullying you……oh shut up you..” The conversation continued, Mildred berating the unfortunate person on the other end of the call. Until something changed. Her face screwed up; eyes producing a substance that actually looked like tears! Her mouth fell into the most awful shape, her wrinkles wrinkling further. “Oh! Its all your fault!” She shrieked, recieving the worst news of her life.
Which word describes my feelings? For how they both so similar are, Both involve a beating of the heart, But the difference is the colour.
For love is never be perceived as black, As hatred so commonly is. But love is rich and red, Like blood enhanced with oxygen.
For hate, black blood pumps, Poisoning he mind further. For love, red runs through veins, Adding more poison of a different kind, Oxytocin.
But how does a mind differentiate the two, For a heart still beats and blood still flows, So until that puzzle is solved, I shall both love and hate you, my dear, Until death do us part, accidental or not.
Most people are scared to age, Just as some are scared to love. But with both ee must embrace.
For the wrinkles show experience, The smile lines showing smiles, The crows feet highlight eyes, Eyes that i still love, my dear, No matter how old you get.
I wish you could see, How amazing the waves on your skin are, How i love to trace them.
You hair might be dull to you but, To me your hair is colours of angel tears, The colour of a stormy sky, The colour of silver linings.
I remember when we were younger, Sweet sixteen and in love, As we are now, but different. Because all we cared for was, The next date or how our eyes met Across the classroom.
I remember the day i left for uni, The fight we had about our future and how i loved you too much to let you go. You complained of course but eventually you agreed to try long distance. Look at us now, dear, but you’re glad you did.
All the memories, The laughs, The love shared, The times we cried and the times we smiled. I remember when we were young but everyone has to grow up, dont we? But even as we age, I’ll love you better for each wrinkle and gray hair. I’ll love you no matter what.
It was a zap. A zing. An instant connection between two people and for once, I believed in Molly’s so-called “movie moments”. His eyes were intense, looking not only at me but my soul, my entire being. I felt as if I was on fire but my hands were cold and clammy. I didnt even notice anything else about him, couldnt tell yoy his hair colour or the clothes he was wearing but in this moment i could see the rest of our lives. A small lakeside house in Cornwall, the dog ive always dreamed of with her pink collar and floppy ears. We wouldnt have any kids. Love. I felt like i was flying, soaring above the skies like a bird on a high with no care in the world. I couldnt wait to meet him.
