To my, or rather another's love,
I see you from afar, longing to wander the village at your side, in plain sight and free of the customary sneers. I couldn't imagine my rags sitting amongst your prestige, but desperation to be yours draws you into my gaze. But alas, I don't dare come near you lest it tarnishes your sparkling reputation. The question that haunts me in every particle of my very being, is what could be. And though in all certainty, I know it cannot be I can't seem to rid myself of these illusions and I am well aware that if I do act on them I shall be viewed as a possessor of impropriety in the most imaginable extremity. The question that I must ultimately ask myself is shall I risk such impropriety or shall I live out the rest of my dreadful life wondering what could have been. For now, I must pray I am stopped.
YOU ARE READING
Iris
RomanceHer name was elegant, her past was not. In clicking on this book you have found a story of unrequited infatuation. A story of a young woman trying to navigate her way through 1913's ever-changing world, as well as her own emotions. And the story of...
