A heart of ice melted in the fires of illusion, she is vulnerable again. A fragile flame struggling in the darkness, where defenses are shattered into broken fragments by an obscure promise imparted by the heartless wind. With hesitation she slips across the threshold, through the boundry of what is real, into an abyss of lucid dreams where fear is mirrored in a dim reflection of the past, and possesion comes too easily for those afraid to feel. From the silent shadows the stranger appears, a disheartened sanctuary in a land of sorrow, and despite the warnings that rage against her, she takes his hand, knowing that illusions fade away, and the love is for a moment, a gift for some to borrow. "Where have you come from, and why have you come?" She whispers in the night. "And why can't I see behind the mask, and how can I know what's right?" In his silence that follows she begins to tell of petals frayed by pain. Of how she lost her laughter in a time of madness, and the hollowness that remains. "Can you see my weakness?" She asks of him, "Will you protect me from it if you can? Or will you use it to destroy me, leaving me bruised and broken, and trying to understand." The words echo in the space between them until fear becomes greater than the need, and the door to her heart begins to close against her silent plea. And the clouds that gather, so dark and familiar, leave her with no fight, and the rain that follows in the depths of her soul puts out the candles light. Confusion turns to sadness as she grips the bitter wind, begging for it's chilling touch to freeze her heart again. and in the distance she hears him crying out, before he turns to leave her, and the night that once held promises of hope remains eternal for the endless flight of the dreamer.
Reason for writing:
The peyote worm in the bottom of my tequila bottle.
Birth sign: Not entered
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