Perfectly still,
Stood the perfect kill.
Coat shining like gold in the blaze of the sun,
There he crouched, pointing nozzle of his gun.
His finger, brushing against the trigger,
He needed to do this quicker.
3, 2, 1...
But as his he pulled the trigger,
She lifted her head and turned to him,
Catching him in a blaze of her gaze.
Her eyes burned like fire in a furnace,
Releasing him of the motivation to kill by the beauty of her face.
And then before him she transformed into a goddess,
No longer a golden doe but a bright light shining within the darkness of the forest.
Every time he told the story of the golden doe, no one believed him.
But he knew within his heart,
He remembered the fire in her eyes,
As vivid as the garden in which he lied in his childhood.
And the light that shown from her skin.
He remembered and he will take this memory to the grave,
How her light shined into his life, illuminating it with her memory just as she did the forest.
And hoping to one day,
see the golden doe, the fire that burned in her eyes, again.
YOU ARE READING
REALITY
PoetryPoetry for those few souls that long for realness our world lacks Written not for reads but a place where I can write my feelings so I can attempt understand them myself. ••• To the boy that changed me. Heartbreak or not, you will live on in my burn...
