#thisbedottie

I think about it a lot The pouring rain The blinding sun The coming storm Her.

She gets you hooked on an image Her image The image of warm summer days and light breeze The image of steaming cups of tea and lightly buttered toast The image of hope and joy But they say that hope only breeds eternal misery And joy is a passing façade of what we yearn for.

The life you would’ve lived haunts you and scares you False smiles and false battles hide real emotion and hatred Real love and real meaning keep oxygen from reaching your burning lungs And nothing can cool the fire in your heart Calm the whirlwind in your brain But you don’t want it to.

There is only being with her But never time ‘Time is a construct’ she will tell you as her eyes bare into yours ‘And constructs are to be ignored’ she will murmur as dawn turns to dusk And between that time love turns to hate Joy turns to sadness Passion turns to dust.

She makes you yearn for her The abuse The pain The sense of danger that bleeds into your dreams just before you wake The feeling of her nearby The smell of her perfume as you walk through crowded streets The look in her eyes just before she takes the knife Plunging it into your skin like warmed butter.

Then she laughs The most beautiful laugh The most wonderful sound to have graced your sorry ears The last sound to grace your sorry ears Because when there is no her There is no you.