The prison door slammed shut behind her. It was cold in her cell, and she knew her mind would get the better of her again...and so with little hesitation she grabbed the pen thrown amongst the already filled pages. She had something to say. She had that way about her, although confident, she was shy. And little knowing that she was to keep the peace, just for the time being by crafting this story of love.
She didn't make up the story, it just was there in her mind. Of how a man had struggled to be loved since a child, and how he could never quite see what she saw in him. He knew she loved him, but felt no honor in the fairytale she weaved. Disheveled he would drink six beers, and six beers only...for a time, because he didn't want to admit a problem and it was just enough to take the edge of his cruel world. He was a lost boy. He had conspired against her...but she wove that tale just the same, as if she had been created for just such a task. He had something to say, and she wanted let the pen fall in a way pleasing to him...even if it were only for the memories, or for the lonely nights when they looked up into the same dark sky and asked God, why???
For this fairytale is of truth. And the man just a boy, and the woman just a girl...and they sit and wait on their hands, as if buying time we're not bringing wrinkles. As if the only true way to justice were to seek vengeance upon the mad. If it were all explainable, then it wouldn't cause the both of them stabbing pangs of the heart and a wincing at the very mention of the others name. But it's true, that the woman had made a martyr of herself...a vision of "How it Works," and her quest for sober living consumed his six pack for him in tears. In the balance of keeping her calm and sane posture, combined with most of the world knowing she was barely sane in her dark moments...she remembered that she was captive...and her cell was simply her home.
And the cat laid beside her, and she was simply on her iPhone again. And simply dreaming again. And she wondered what all this was about. And looked up at the sky and asked God, why???
I thought I hadn't done a blog post in awhile...just jotted this one down! I like. Goodnight!
She didn't make up the story, it just was there in her mind. Of how a man had struggled to be loved since a child, and how he could never quite see what she saw in him. He knew she loved him, but felt no honor in the fairytale she weaved. Disheveled he would drink six beers, and six beers only...for a time, because he didn't want to admit a problem and it was just enough to take the edge of his cruel world. He was a lost boy. He had conspired against her...but she wove that tale just the same, as if she had been created for just such a task. He had something to say, and she wanted let the pen fall in a way pleasing to him...even if it were only for the memories, or for the lonely nights when they looked up into the same dark sky and asked God, why???
For this fairytale is of truth. And the man just a boy, and the woman just a girl...and they sit and wait on their hands, as if buying time we're not bringing wrinkles. As if the only true way to justice were to seek vengeance upon the mad. If it were all explainable, then it wouldn't cause the both of them stabbing pangs of the heart and a wincing at the very mention of the others name. But it's true, that the woman had made a martyr of herself...a vision of "How it Works," and her quest for sober living consumed his six pack for him in tears. In the balance of keeping her calm and sane posture, combined with most of the world knowing she was barely sane in her dark moments...she remembered that she was captive...and her cell was simply her home.
And the cat laid beside her, and she was simply on her iPhone again. And simply dreaming again. And she wondered what all this was about. And looked up at the sky and asked God, why???
I thought I hadn't done a blog post in awhile...just jotted this one down! I like. Goodnight!