Wednesday, July 26, 2006

He reminded her of the past, a thought which lingered much too long but was satiable just the same. She danced to further herself from him, to rid him of her flesh, her bones, her muscles; they ached and tugged with each maneouver trying to justify the reasons he haunted a vacancy she had not wanted. She spun and twisted her body in impossible archs until her breath escaped its prison and she lay flat on the floor; a butterfly torn of its wings, all flight and flutter gone or ghostly. A cymbol's crash sounded her denouement and the dance ended with the same violence that had preceded it. She didn't want to resurrect the past, but it lay a hollow grave in his watery eyes. His touch was the rotting flesh of a corpse. His voice a mingling of lost souls drowned in syrupy cadence that reverberated a sunken feeling in the back of her mind; that vacancy.
She slumped to the floor, defeated by the ghosts of her past.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

wow, that is amazeing, i have to read more of your writeing.
love forever

12:18 AM  

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