Misguided Hearts
Hey this is yet another story I got an idea for, this is something I've never played with, so I'm trying it out. Lemme know what you all think, ty, ttfn!
Darkness floats as the encompassing blanket which wraps around as a tender love, bittersweet knives carved lovingly into beating hearts, very dark desire which burns that all of society will condemn. The sweetest kiss beneath the moonlight, slow and silken touch, your smooth oration dancing through my mind as graceful as the ballerina who poses for her audience. The only serenade we hear is the beautiful chirp of nature, crisp rustle of fallen leaves, and the crackle of a glowing fire. Our love is the swan which graces the mirroring waters of a lake whom holds with the greatest sadness a romance of the most delicate fatigue.
I’m confused at best, the thoughts which are gliding through my enlightened mind are nightmares, untold horrors which I dare not confess to my closest friend.
Today you touched my hand instantly silencing the quick murmurs and laughter in the hallways, I was terrified that someone had seen, yet excited that you would grace my hand with such a tender gesture. Thinking back my mind gleefully reconstructs the rough feel of your fingertips callused from hard labor, yet more tender than a fresh peach on a summer’s day. It is a bittersweet life when you are near, for my happiness is consuming, yet my heart is breaking all the same.
It’s three weeks ago, he’s drunk, and I’m well on my way of joining him. I can’t tell anyone what happened, I can’t even begin to think of what I really feel. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t do this, that pleading look he’s giving me is nothing but an innocent stare. How can I sympathize or act when the only thing it will cause is equally dealt pain?
This light frame before me is nothing but a twig, readily snapped in the vicious fall winds, he is the china which must be shielded with a sturdy cabinet. But I am not that cabinet and he is not my concern, those pitiful looks and heart wrenching sighs are something, which I cannot even begin to recognize.
If I handed a knife to you, would you slice at my heart the same way your eyes slash at my open mind? I have tried to push away the growing desire to be held in your arms, to feel the strong steel of your muscles and hear your rhythmic heartbeat as I slowly drift to sleep. Who could understand such a powerful longing to be understood?
A steady tick of a clock is tolling down the hours, which I have left with you, small scrapes of our feet on a checkered board, we are but pawns in a viscous game. The lacquered earth beneath us is a constant mockery of our position, we are the sacrifice to a better cause, the justification for angry stares. We are useless tools in a game, which shall taste no victory nor hear a winning cheer.
Two weeks ago, we’re alone in his bedroom, he turns and slams a fist into the wall. Tears are pouring freely from his eyes, he’s lost his only girlfriend, and I am the reason. He’s furious and grateful all the same. His hand gushes, the blood is spilling all over, but he’s too numb to realize that even there. Without a second thought I pull him close and for one moment in our lives there’s peace and a sense of reason.
I can feel the steady shake coursing throughout him, he’s terrified that his future is slipping from his open grasp.
He’s slowly going insane because of me.
The moonlight is slowly fading as the very brink of dawn begins to grace the sleeping lands. The forest falls silent, a witness to our actions, slowly he cups my face in that small affectionate way. His lips press gently against my own, a sweet burst of heaven, the deepest taint of sin. The heavens love us, yet they frown in grief for such sweet lambs who wander from the path of simplicity, we have chosen our destined plight. If this were to cause our death, it would only be a sweet and melodic death of unaltered bliss, for only in death did Romeo openly welcome Juliet into his arms.
His voice is the harp of angels, it strums slowly within my heart as the only words which I’ve ever wanted to hear are spoken.
"I love you Alejandro."
"I love you too, Jordan."
Darkness floats as the encompassing blanket which wraps around as a tender love, bittersweet knives carved lovingly into beating hearts, very dark desire which burns that all of society will condemn. The sweetest kiss beneath the moonlight, slow and silken touch, your smooth oration dancing through my mind as graceful as the ballerina who poses for her audience. The only serenade we hear is the beautiful chirp of nature, crisp rustle of fallen leaves, and the crackle of a glowing fire. Our love is the swan which graces the mirroring waters of a lake whom holds with the greatest sadness a romance of the most delicate fatigue.
I’m confused at best, the thoughts which are gliding through my enlightened mind are nightmares, untold horrors which I dare not confess to my closest friend.
Today you touched my hand instantly silencing the quick murmurs and laughter in the hallways, I was terrified that someone had seen, yet excited that you would grace my hand with such a tender gesture. Thinking back my mind gleefully reconstructs the rough feel of your fingertips callused from hard labor, yet more tender than a fresh peach on a summer’s day. It is a bittersweet life when you are near, for my happiness is consuming, yet my heart is breaking all the same.
It’s three weeks ago, he’s drunk, and I’m well on my way of joining him. I can’t tell anyone what happened, I can’t even begin to think of what I really feel. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t do this, that pleading look he’s giving me is nothing but an innocent stare. How can I sympathize or act when the only thing it will cause is equally dealt pain?
This light frame before me is nothing but a twig, readily snapped in the vicious fall winds, he is the china which must be shielded with a sturdy cabinet. But I am not that cabinet and he is not my concern, those pitiful looks and heart wrenching sighs are something, which I cannot even begin to recognize.
If I handed a knife to you, would you slice at my heart the same way your eyes slash at my open mind? I have tried to push away the growing desire to be held in your arms, to feel the strong steel of your muscles and hear your rhythmic heartbeat as I slowly drift to sleep. Who could understand such a powerful longing to be understood?
A steady tick of a clock is tolling down the hours, which I have left with you, small scrapes of our feet on a checkered board, we are but pawns in a viscous game. The lacquered earth beneath us is a constant mockery of our position, we are the sacrifice to a better cause, the justification for angry stares. We are useless tools in a game, which shall taste no victory nor hear a winning cheer.
Two weeks ago, we’re alone in his bedroom, he turns and slams a fist into the wall. Tears are pouring freely from his eyes, he’s lost his only girlfriend, and I am the reason. He’s furious and grateful all the same. His hand gushes, the blood is spilling all over, but he’s too numb to realize that even there. Without a second thought I pull him close and for one moment in our lives there’s peace and a sense of reason.
I can feel the steady shake coursing throughout him, he’s terrified that his future is slipping from his open grasp.
He’s slowly going insane because of me.
The moonlight is slowly fading as the very brink of dawn begins to grace the sleeping lands. The forest falls silent, a witness to our actions, slowly he cups my face in that small affectionate way. His lips press gently against my own, a sweet burst of heaven, the deepest taint of sin. The heavens love us, yet they frown in grief for such sweet lambs who wander from the path of simplicity, we have chosen our destined plight. If this were to cause our death, it would only be a sweet and melodic death of unaltered bliss, for only in death did Romeo openly welcome Juliet into his arms.
His voice is the harp of angels, it strums slowly within my heart as the only words which I’ve ever wanted to hear are spoken.
"I love you Alejandro."
"I love you too, Jordan."
posted by Mikira James at
10:31 PM
2 Comments:
whoa ... a kind of gothic romance gone gay. i like it! :) not sure a guy would actually be able to ... think that much but hey ... gotta give em credit for trying lol
i like the contrast, it seems really dark the first character is neat he's so much deeper than the second tho it's a good contrast
kudos to you!
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