my writing corner

a heartbeat keeps the rhythm of a wingbeat the end almost feels like it's around the bend but once chance to stay alive comes at a precarious time maybe a time too many for me a time too many to be still alive to be evading death to be alive a heartbeat keeps the rhythm of a wingbeat until the last heartbeat falls silent after the last wingbeat

i am alone. in this dark meadow, i finally grasp the fact that nobody will save me. i only have myself. the danger still unclear, i stand in the middle of the meadow, with the silver moonlight falling down on me. i finally close my eyes and lift my face towards the moon, my arms no up at shoulder level, my full wingspan open. i feel nothing as i fall, the danger finally catching up to me... and i willingly let it take over.

wings beat to the rhythm of a heartbeat a heart on concrete tears leave her face with tearstreaks watiting on a starstreak a wish on one for happiness after heartbreak loneliness in place of happiness in hopes of less of the sorrow to rather borrow happiness rather than let the sadness swallow everything to be hoping to one day have something for now the days look bleak she allows herself to feel weak week after week

a sea of green grass waves when a breeze comes through. the breeze feels warm against my skin, smells fresh. the sky is a clear blue, the sun lemon yellow. i let myself lay down in the knee high grass. a lazy white cloud floats along high in the sky. the grass waves again around me, roughly soft against my skin. just one wish - to have someone with me, a man to share this moment with.

waves crash against the beach. i run out on the beach and look back at you as i laugh, enjoying myself. i turn back around and slow down to a walk, and you come up behind me, arms around my waist. we laugh again, soft sand shifting beneath our feet, flying around our ankles. my hair falls over my shoulders, your arms are still around me. we finally sit down in the sand, you around me... as the memory fades, i realize that you are gone. your time, love, has come. and, although i have all these fine memories of us, i am alone.