short story

love was found in her eyes, so alluring that the deep blue tears rolled in the silence of her grace

as she swayed back and forth, towing the problems of the world on her shoulders and wondering...

would she ever know the warm touch of her husbands hand, or would the cold nights keep her dreams...

locked in a never ending torment because of her caring soul, he was the love of her life - stricken...

his illness was schizoaffective disorder, a terrible torment of the mind that has no concern for life

there he desperately tried to hold on to their love but lacked the ability to hold her interest

and as they sat in the same room, her next to the window looking at the moon

he lay in the bed as she turned and looked into his eyes,

i'm leaving you

 

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nightlight1220's picture

Ditto HW re: your writes

I think what is the saddest of all is that people find themselves incapable of the love it takes to separate the individual from the lack of health.  I am guilty of it myself, albeit, it is usually with physical illness that I have the problem when people do not follow common sense suggestions.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

Morningglory's picture

Sad ending Burke. :/ Nice to

Sad ending Burke. :/ Nice to see a couple of your works. It's been a while since I've read. 

 

 


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