One might fall.
One might fall into a night of never ending terror and abyss -
a torture what we've accepted and become comfortable with, feeling uneasy and uncertain full of anxiety that tires your mind. It is a torture that we willingly put ourselves in, it's love.
It's love that tortures a mans soul, in particular falling in love.
Every single time I find myself in the web of seduction I ask myself why am I here, and why won't I leave.
It's an illness that I don't mind, it's an omen of change that has crept up on me so suddenly that I had not even a hair of time to react until justice was done and I was swept off my feet. Falling gracefully into the bliss of ''the dream''. I keep thinking she is here, the dream has arrived and it will soothe me to sleep from this nightmare, from this hell we call life. I keep thinking that this creature from another world can change me in ways that make me complete I think to myself that I am now more than I have ever been... and then I get shocked up from my lull only to get reminded to be patient, graceful.
Grace. I can not be graceful, I am the essence of fire, of explosions and destruction. Fire burns brighter as fuel is added to my rage to my everlasting anger and lust - and within this chaos and dooming forest fire she steps in, unable to be harmed, unable to be shoved or moved into the burning pits of demise. Uncontrollable. As she gracefully walks towards me with a smile on her face that could resemble a thousand mirrors shattered in evenings sunlight she walks towards me. Her hair simple, unwrapped, free and loose reminding the observer of her wild nature. Her eyes emerald green, overshadowing my red temper. Fury and anger are dispelled, I only have one thought in my mind, her. She has showed up and turned hell into a bad dream. My mind can not cope with what has happened, I gained control, over myself, but not over her. Having put out the forest fire I try and kindle her a warm fireplace, all my rage and anger have been reduced to a subtle arch of flame with the only intention of keeping her warm. And all of the blaze she witnessed does not baffle her, it doesn't even shake her the least bit, she goes on pretending, playing her game as if she had never been touched by flames that surrounded her a minute ago. All my thoughts are formed into one word; her. I can no longer ignite another flame, because she has taken my heart full of fuel unaware of the terrible fact that the heart of a salamander is it's only organ that prevents it from getting burned. She leaves me sitting here burning in agony yet dreaming of having one more moment with her, hoping that future brings fire back to my chest.
