Here we have a little piece written by my own hand with something called a pen in something called a journal. That would be ink flowing onto bound pages, people. So old school.
Blue skies and the hint that tomorrow may not happen.
I left you standing by yourself.
then you would not fight the end so hard.
continuing the pilgrimage, traveling like the rest.
and ask the stars to show you the way.
given to lonely people by the equally lonely.
you let yourself slip into the unforgivable dark.
and you might even realize I was doing the right thing.
moving myself toward something brighter.
my hands could not pull you from your rooted state.
and begged you to give in and dance to its melody.
to fall forever, to live forever, to petrify.
breaking over ice like stone.
I left you there where you could be happy; alone.
Stop it. Don’t make me cry. This is your best fluff piece (terrible name, but you know that) yet.
Very evocative. I liked it. And Tibbsy’s right: not fluff. :) Thank you for sharing with us!