There was nothing left except her orange blossom scent in the air, her skin cells on the conspiring blanket, the energy he was feeding off and her seraphic aspirations, elegantly penned in a forlorn diary before her concept of the world expanded into postmodern depths and her self-concept became a liberating
Catatonic state I feel your ashes like quicksand I’m sucked into so I’m standing still trying to enjoy the view. Puppet show Manipulator, those frightened girls- your marionettes are so sweet; I point at the strings inserted in their brains but they won’t look up, they’re in a trance.
All dead things are resurrected by the phantom smile- you conjure it when the world collapses: that lovely, foreign yet familiar equivocal smile your mind translates into life and pure hope stays engraved in your memory; through mirroring, you borrow it and unknowingly pass it on to someone else- that
You step out of the darkness into the light, then into the darkness again carrying sapphire light within you- your inner compass, your greatest strength Carefree, out of the corner of your eye you see shadows shy away from your disarming nature; you are an unlikely saviour awakened in serendipity- you
Her face aglow, she performs her rite gracefully, like the snow in the silver lunar light; deathly hair, startling eyes, soul-enhancing white night purity, necromancing- nude porcelain skin, beauty within whispers of sin. knowledge sought after flirting with disaster secrets held in astral shells uttered in diffuse spells the occult-
You were polarising- in so many ways, your vibe confused the hell out of me and the ambivalence made me uncomfortable; I met you at a time when I didn’t know the best things in life are somewhat polarising, they tend to be transformative, with their stimulating powers I liked
Face to face: eyes locked, staring into each other; seeing your reflection in the dark lake of her iris. Hand on hand, praying together- not like those bible verses preach- no, praying to the abyss, hoping it won’t swallow you whole; understanding at first the irony and then the futility