Her eyes held a nervous glisten.
Her false expression
strained under the weight of this reality.
I saw it. My heart stumbled.
She struggled to speak.
I struggled to exist.
My thoughts escaped.
Fleeing from now, I embraced yesterday.
I bathed in memories, strolled through the past,
where her soft eyes filled my soul.
She was my Sunday afternoon.
Her voice barged in and thrust me back.
Here.
Now.
Her words lunged violently toward me.
I slowly looked away and muttered something
meaningless.
I walked away…. for hours.
Later.
I returned.
I knocked on the cold door.
It opened and she appeared.
Her beauty mocked me.
Tearless.
I removed the knife from my jacket.
She screamed.
It sank.
I fell.
My spirit now hangs in her soul
and haunts her heart.
Rest. She will not torture you.
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