And as the moment faded into time. As the moment recited its victory in which a concoction of likes, lies and lessons saw her life endure. And as the girl, that ‘she’, a small delight, a small terror. She grasped what was in reach – love. In surreal company, a misery that gleamed in honour. What stood in line, she rejoiced for. A dull rainbow, a boring novelty. She wondered ,and wandered down streets in her life - a straight jacket she never escaped from. Her pretense now faulted. Her life, her soul, her love she never dared challenge. A wick without wax to burn, a life without a heart.
And there stood a many answer that sense didn’t put a finger to. What was the end, as she surrendered in more wet pity. Pleading, for torture? A juncture where words seemed less than credibility proved. A reconnection to the former? Or were the formers all an enigmatic replica of the latter? In life, she put her first foot as front. Risky? Caution? Trust. Faith. Shunned from light, tongue pulled back in remorse and deathly fear. Looming in despair, her shrouded heart smashed when light penetrated. A black room turned white. The awkward silences the pair found present. A sight. A fight. A plight, pathetic.
She slammed it shut. Gushes streamed down in her cascading mind as it hovered over hope, lost. Akin a ship without a sailors, it sinks. Her life without the other, dies.
Marcus.



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