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Oh, Captain
I knew that to love her was suicide, but my god her brokenness was beautiful,
A tragic mess who had learned to dance with her skeletons
She rocked to sleep those restless memories, held pain so close to her chest
Insomnia was her most reliable friend,
The emblem of their nightly charades displayed as mottled darkness beneath her eyes
She was a survivor when all others stayed victims
Her body a battlefield, littered with fading scars and the faint aroma of suffering
Both mingling with olive skin and sweet perfume
But survival is gorgeous
She didn't want love, didn't need a companion
Only a loyal captain to stand silent at the helm of her sinking ship
Never before did a gun placed to my temple feel so full of life
A Life Profiled
Portraits. Prosaic and poignant. Depressing as the culture from which they were grown.
Powerful
An incredibly powerful piece. You've got a novel in you, I can tell!
Beautiful piece
Very well written! "Insomnia was her most reliable friend." That really got to me because I suffered from Insomnia for several years and it is a really hard cycle to break. And with Insomnia, when you do sleep you suffer from imaginations of the mind. Just a wonderful sentence.