Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2144985-Smoke
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Outline · Relationship · #2144985
Fulfilling unorthodox habits with someone you care about.
Smoke fills every inch of the room, cascading on top of furniture like our fingers on each other's skin.
Sifting through the oxygen, breathless and wandering through what should have been it's home.
Naked and vulnerable as the flaming candle it came from, however
The wide open window allows a breeze that flows through us and our words, making it easier to breathe, slowing the sorrows.
I look out, the clouds are as heavy as the snow Winter posseses, and as red as our bloodshot eyes.
We are too awake to dream this much.
The sight of him sitting, so beautiful and sad, mouth steaming at the seams with candid confessions.
Too much to hide, but no energy to hide it anymore.
So intoxicating to me.
Forcing me to forget boundaries, breathing down the walls instead of knocking them.
I have been so lost, no soul to share the tension with.
Never have a wanted him more.
Eyes staring blankly into mine with a knowingness he does not want to share.
Rose red orbs with prickly thorns to defend.
It's his voice that undresses me, slowly discarding the wounds that bind me to the ceiling,
Glaring up at the flesh-toned strings tied around my wrists, so many times I've been burned.
I beg of him, let me in.
A face of discontent, eyes of ocean storms and sizzling deserts.
He bleeds passion and fervour.
I've been hurting for a long time.
Losing my way trying to find myself where there seems to be nothing left to be found.
I have crawled to the deepest inner crevices of my mind in an attempt to see how someone like him can be so broken.
I almost pity him, beautiful people can never know who to trust.
Flame lies between his fingers.
Staring into the smoke, he's still blue and untrusting.
Slowly my hand reaches over to touch his and the words spill out of his mouth.
He pauses, eyes splitting into mine questioningly, as if searching for something.
A despair to match his own.
His mouth finds mine once more and I ask myself once more,
Can happiness ever truly be found in misery?
© Copyright 2018 Ilyana Leorose (honeyblonde at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2144985-Smoke