A Prose

Writer's Choice

Tonight I walk the path of dark... through the forests of thick untouched trees... The meadow of golden wishes and dreams behind me, I shall leave it all behind. So I continue to walk this path without light, not knowing where to stop, not knowing where this path shall take me. Step by step, memory by memory, you slowly leave my head where your translucent scent and touch still lingers. I look once more and feel your body against mine... I reached out and heard your words, screaming through my head... over and over again, calling me to return. But to return I shall not. If having all the gold in the world means living a miserable fantasy in your arms... I'd rather continue taking this path... and so I did. I took a couple more steps, passing the vines and thorned bushes. My knees cut and scraped, my wounds set completely open once more, to see the ever healthy flowing of the rich red blood from my skin.... I remember that passion we once shared together... yet I must not remember, not now, not ever. Have I loved you? Yes, I have... and that I can not deny... though 'loved' is in the the form of the past... it must be forgotten. This path, though unclear... I know I must continue, my heart it weakens, though this is worth all the pain. Forgetting you is worth all the pain... You are nothing but an ungrateful little soul who feasted upon my innocence, trashing it, burning it, stealing gold from the meadows I have owned and cherished for so long... and in return what do I get? Nothing... nothing but your harsh acidic words that pierce through my flesh... slowly eating me inside, consuming my body. And why do you do this? Because you have forgotten... forgotten everything about me, everything about you... and so I must keep going... And leave you be unto your own destruction. I cannot help you any longer, nor can I watch you from afar.... to be with you is sorrow, to be near you is suicide.... and if you or anyone else cannot appreciate and respect the beauty my own soul possesses, then that is no longer of my concerns. I have now reached the middle of this path, and I look back towards your direction... you look like nothing but a tiny dot in a pile of multi-colored jewels. You have lost your beauty... your grace, everything I have known of you... and though I would love to turn back and save you from the crumbling walls of my fortress, I must continue living my own way... and your destruction shall be my only source of life. I now turn away and grieve for you and mourn for your soul... and in the process of doing so, I too have weakened, fell on the ground... and lost my own...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

...to that person I onced loved with all my heart, body, and soul... may you find your way again...

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Hoe's picture

Hmmm...very passionate, but if you trully want a critique? I like it, of course I do. You must always write what your heart holds within...but, as a great writer that you are, Jackie, you need some freshness to your work. Do you know what I mean? Just try and expand and think of other things to write about...or else, this person, whom ever it may be, that you write about, may never really die.