Posted by: colloquiallyspeaking | November 1, 2011

And Then There Were Two

He sits with the demons in his head, watching the world go by as he waits for salvation. The metal pumping through his ears reminds his heart to beat. Sweet nectar of oblivion passes his lips greedily and soothes his insatiable thirst for love. He is fiercely loyal to these streets he sits on. He will protect his turf with all his might. He will not let the safety of their corners be compromised.

She doesn’t really want to be here. The noise is deafening and, without a drink, everything seems surreal. She fights her way through the crowd as she escapes in circles. The endless walks around the corner, always running away, become her ritual, night after night after night. Daylight brings a respite from all her fears. No longer as vigilant, she can sleep a bit to strengthen herself for the long night ahead.

The days are shorter now. The winds blow stinging rain in all directions. They are all here, the walking dead, daring the world to make them feel. As the nights pass and winter tosses them about, their numbers slowly diminish. One by one they find the warmth they crave. One by one they leave their peers behind as their heads clear. Still they remain, the children who cannot move forward, the ones who have holes too big to mend sucking the life out of their broken hearts. They band together, this motley crew, and cling to whatever hopes they still dare to dream.

Spring washes over the world, engulfing all but this place with colors of life. The ones who left trickle back, one by one again, to see what it is they abandoned. The bitter winds of winter have not been kind to the twists and turns of alleys no longer familiar to hearts that have learned to be still. The weathered faces of the ones left behind are cold and unforgiving. There is nothing here but memories best forgotten.

It is summer and the air is thick with panicked breaths. There is not much time for the few remaining souls. They are a pyre waiting for a spark every night.

He is still there, with his bottle, waiting for the fire. He will embrace it when it comes. It is what he deserves.

She is wandering around in circles, running away from fear, as she watches the fires roar through their special spot in hell and consume the world they built.

When the glowing embers brighten up the night one last time, they turn to each other in confusion and say hello for the very first time as they carry their wounded hearts to the safety of an autumn breeze.

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Responses

  1. Crazily enough – I’ve BEEN to this place. Or places like it. I’ve been there and I’ve left them behind before my soul was, too, consummed by those very same flames.

  2. not crazy at all…in response to your previous post, some of us do know what you’ve been through.
    and if you ever roamed on this side of the ocean, you were most definitely at this place.

  3. I was on pretty short leashes when I’ve been there. i am thinkin’ about travelling there in late Dec or Jan. How bout that?

  4. look me up, i’ll show you around đŸ™‚


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