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Self-Executed Scars

I carry bittersweet memories of her- I held such an ambivalent idea of who she truly was. She was an angel by day yet arcane darkness consumed her at night. My tactile touches were measurable and my instincts died when she fell off the cliff. -Her disease killed her, really. She would lay quiescent by day, then manic all night. No matter how much effort I put into trying to save her I knew eventually she would wither away like the dried up white rose I placed gently on her tomb. Somewhere between good and evil her quintessence that once was so bright, lost its way and shriveled up into nothing. She felt nothing at the end. -I felt everything from the start... I was always the intercessor between her and God. She fought Him so hard, and I praised him even harder. She would walk around wearing flamboyant burn holes on her sleeves to cover up the self-executed scars on her wrists. Hell seemed luscious to her, as did her idea of dying. I was nothing but an immolation; a sacrifice to be made when times were too tough. I’ll never hear her laugh, or kiss her cheek goodbye again- and she will never know what it’s like to be truly loved. -She died feeling... unloved -Now I live feeling... unloved Reversal hearts beat on, and one became two. Separated from destruction and sadness- a life wasted on abduction of madness. Ten Words Used: 1. AMBIVALENT 2. ARCANE 3. BITTERSWEET 4. LUSCIOUS 5. INTERCESSOR 6. QUIESCENT 7. FLAMBOYANT 8 IMMOLATION 9. TACTILE 10 QUINTESSENCE Ten Word Challenge 2 Sponsor: John Hamilton November 4, 2016

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 11/8/2016 1:54:00 AM
This is a beautiful tribute to your sister, Laura:)
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Date: 11/4/2016 2:43:00 PM
Wow, the sadness in this poem is heartbreaking. I felt a chill rush over me as I read this. So sadly beautiful Laura.
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Book: Shattered Sighs