"To be or not to be. That's not really a question." ~ Jean-Luc Godard
He desired her.
From the first moment he saw her.
She was everything he wasn't,
it angered him,
yet mesmerised him simultaneously.
It made him want to conquer her.
He was like a moth to the flames,
and he couldn't get enough.
Even when he came to close,
the blazing inferno that embodied her,
scalded him.
As if to remind him,
you can't conquer something free.
Her touch,
as soft as rain,
like the calming balm of a midsummers
night,
soothed the burn.
Serene as the opalescent moon,
the brilliance of the planet only
overshadowed,
by her incandescent form,
how her skin,
soft as satin,
glowed like embers,
reminiscent only of the celestial
countenance,
that aspired to her form,
yearning for a silhouette
as fine as her figure,
as she lay beneath sheets,
as silky as her skin,
in the deepest recesses of his
memories.
He could see it now,
She lived for the thunder.
Each roar,
presented some untouched
organic and unfathomable adventure.
An alchemistic tempest,
of stormy chaos,
raw and transcending
with absolute disregard,
for the saintlike.
Always the sinner.
Ever the reckless,
wanton gypsy,
the sprightly nymph.
But he,
no he waited for rain.
convinced as ever,
despite the drought of spontaneity,
and the lax in originality,
in his saintliness.
so much so he had everyone convinced,
included himself,
of that fact.
except her.
He was determined for more.
He ached to feel a freedom like hers,
He didn't think he meant to take hers
in truth,
He only wanted some for himself.
It was excruciating,
she was everything he wanted to be,
he rued the day she came along,
presenting a manifestation of
everything he was without,
everying he tried but failed to be,
the ebony haired siren of the
tumultuous seas,
an emerald eyed gypsy twirling
feverishly,
beneath the melancholy moon.
And in tryin to personify,
all that she stood for,
her breathless abandon,
He stole it instead.
Yet even then,
he seemed unable to retain it,
to possess it.
Almost as if,
it could not be,
without her.
As if something that alive,
could never be chained.
And with her gone,
it had no reason to be.
an unetterable sin it would be,
to quench the fire within,
and quieten that storm,
that was her.
A truly inconceivable evil.
Too late.
Lifting it to his temple.
He pressed down.
For her.
-Logan
YOU ARE READING
a tragedy of some kind
General FictionP.S. I wish I never loved you. Oh how I wish -Delilah He burned like the sun, blazing from the tips of her fingers to her toes. He was like a weed that entangled her obtruding ribcage, intertwining her lungs, drawing out every ounce of breathe. She...
