(This is a true story, set into prose, something I can dilute through words, but never able to tell aloud. Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and
my heart gets heavy, and with the back of my hand I wipe the tears that have bravely followed the contour of my cheek. I am humbled by the task
ahead, coming to grips with past mistakes, yet something within my soul stirs up, and the words come to mind, and so I type. Slowly at first, knowing
a month of poetry awaits, and thus I carefully think the words for Verse One. Other verses should follow.)
There was a man once, bonded,
marital vows said,
his right to life absconded.
He withered hence under the rule,
a crude stone tool.
He never got how someone wouldn't touch him.
An angel floated, met his face,
and told him then
He, a lump, couldn't fathom more,
broiled empathy chopped up in little bits,
served warm, with vegetables, totally out of character.
The angel said, "Come with me."
She showed me the world twisted on end, and with her, I wasn't afraid. I found myself within that heart, a part of her never removed, a woman I
*the sound of broken glass tinkling*
The woman I had made love to looked at me one day, smiling. Her smile spread, and warmed the ground.
Her wings spread wide, glistening,
I stood there watching, and listening.
The shiny dragon spoke.
"Druid, love, I'll miss you much."
"Not so much as I."
I said nothing.
edit on 11/1/12 by Druid42 because: added captions