Look, Waite and see what I have become. Watch my eyes as I fight them back and let them win. Slowly they close for but a moment. In that moment my soul leaves my body and travels for a wile to a place of rest. Leaving my body to be on its own dead and life less. But none the less my eyes rip themselves open forcing my soul back into a body where it dose not fit. Into a pit filled with mud after it just got cleaned up. Still the mind look to my soul and pleads with it to hold on with promises of turning around. Fixing the problems and changing it ways. But th body dose not wish for such things to happen. It loves the feeling it gets in this state. Loving the touch of a woman. The sound of a girls voice sound in happy ness or the laughter she lets out if only for a moment. But for all their differences there is one thing that they all share. In one point in time and seemingly mor often now than before. They all ake for something. They wish and drive for a for filling of passion. For the love felt in all the minds, souls, and bodies are equally strong in their own way. But when the soul is lost in love there is little to keep the man from fallowing soon after. And the hart least of all. Runs and jumps at the idea of love. Looking forwards to the first touch. Their first kiss. Or even just the first few seconds of her presence on a date or just getting together. Sitting across a table of indishion and pain he looks up into her eyes. Weather they be golden, brown, green or a alabaster. Weather a hue of red infects the green surroundings or maybe she just as the eyes of a goddess. with the seas having trouble to compare to her beauty. Her tears act like the waves washing and reviling more and more. Fixing the damage and renewing the smooth serenity of the land scape. Going back to perfection in a hart beat. Her cheeks so warm and soft to the eyes. They p***k his hart and taunt his body. Keeping his soul on its toes. Still they all long for her presence. To feel a woman’s touch. For the first time to be more than just friend or aquanteces over the vast spans of the worlds communication networks. Even with the wishes of a new sight and love the old still for some odd reason holds tight to his hart. Pulling him back and down. Contorting his emotions to the point of tears. Braking his hart all over again. Bending his will to hers even though she is nowhere to be seen, Hurd, or felt. Like a plage she has left her mark on his hart. Making the mark that rests along her eye on his hart. Permanatly binding her to him weather or not she wishes for it to be so.
Here is the question for all my rambling’s. A question im sure has been asked by many, many more men and women alike. Why do I feel this way? What is it I am supposed to gain from her? Why is my soul constantly brought back to her memories and sights? Why do her pictures keep haunting me? Why dose her face. So fine and fair keep looking to my hart piercing me to my core. Braking me down like a weapon in the hands of a skilled warrior. Still even though she is looking somewhere elts with here eyes and hart. Mine still feels like there is some thing I need to do. That I am not doing something right. Or im just not right for her yet.
So here I stand. On a pedestal looking down on the cliffs ending watching a grate battle rage between two kings of their craft. And yet I stand wishing to join in the fray but tears of pain role down my face as my feet refuse to move. Holding me at the perch. Looking and hanging over the edge. Something, some rope holds me firmly on the places crest. But my body cries for rest.
Im tired, tired of being alone. And wishing for a touch. To feel a single finger run along my face. rub my hand over a back of a cared one. To look and see my life play out in front of me knowing that no matter what happens that it will be fine so long she is by my side. And looking around all I see are others feeling what I wish to feel. Having what I want. Getting and holding onto things I wish to have. In this winter ridden land my hart is the only ting that is warm in my body. Warmed by the hopes of feeling my desires. For al but a moment and I could die a happy man. My rope would e cut and I would plunge to t he icy waters below. Smiling the hole way down even after I hit the water I would grin big showing the world I am complete. Finished in her and she in me, if only a small way.
Rest now. Sleep and dream of your world. Hold her and be glad in your final moments. For when your eyes open a new world awaits you. Weather it be in her arms or not. I know not. but live happy for your moments in your sleep are enough.
Are they not?
 morti_cacciatore · Fri Nov 10, 2006 @ 04:01am · 1 Comments |
