his fate
Felicity
Posts: 339
he made a list
that he kept near his heart
of the things
his lifemate would be
she would be his challenge
the one to break through
his tender yet closed shell
many would try
and many would fail
falling away in tears
or frustration
or anger
but suddenly
there she was
the one who matched
in so many ways
following down the list
yes
yes
yes
yes
oh, my god
could it be?
but she resisted his call
for so long
never wanting to know
that it could ever be real
she had her life
all set and sound
give or take a few things
he insisted
he would win
through words alone
then surround her
with a feeling
finally his lips
would rest on hers
and bodies would unite
intimate, quiet, sweet
thus began the time...
she succumbed to his charm
with trust and a smile
arriving at her door
heart pounding
scared as a captured bird
you are free, she said
but he was still confused
how could she allow
him to fly in and out
at his whim
and still love so
that too was on the list
though he had forgotten
and so it went
his beloved words
her only connection
trusting inside truths
the magic and the love
his much wished-for
angel on earth
was too good to be true
too perfect to deserve
all the trouble and strife
confusion and disbelief
he constantly conveyed
now feeling unworthy
yet paralyzed to go to her
what held him back
from making complete
the bond he had lived for?
only his conscience can know
for many ill deeds were done
and many innocent souls
were hurt and denied,
to have her as his own
i could die
i could die
i could die
i will die..........
never having known
never deserving to know
that still peace of true love
that rapture so exquisite
it's all been fucking bullshit
to you
that he kept near his heart
of the things
his lifemate would be
she would be his challenge
the one to break through
his tender yet closed shell
many would try
and many would fail
falling away in tears
or frustration
or anger
but suddenly
there she was
the one who matched
in so many ways
following down the list
yes
yes
yes
yes
oh, my god
could it be?
but she resisted his call
for so long
never wanting to know
that it could ever be real
she had her life
all set and sound
give or take a few things
he insisted
he would win
through words alone
then surround her
with a feeling
finally his lips
would rest on hers
and bodies would unite
intimate, quiet, sweet
thus began the time...
she succumbed to his charm
with trust and a smile
arriving at her door
heart pounding
scared as a captured bird
you are free, she said
but he was still confused
how could she allow
him to fly in and out
at his whim
and still love so
that too was on the list
though he had forgotten
and so it went
his beloved words
her only connection
trusting inside truths
the magic and the love
his much wished-for
angel on earth
was too good to be true
too perfect to deserve
all the trouble and strife
confusion and disbelief
he constantly conveyed
now feeling unworthy
yet paralyzed to go to her
what held him back
from making complete
the bond he had lived for?
only his conscience can know
for many ill deeds were done
and many innocent souls
were hurt and denied,
to have her as his own
i could die
i could die
i could die
i will die..........
never having known
never deserving to know
that still peace of true love
that rapture so exquisite
it's all been fucking bullshit
to you
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
Working through days, nights, hardships, projects together. This other kind of "true love" is usually just a female's dream. Real love is healthier than this type of dream love.
it's a piece of writing i did inspired by some articles i read about internet stalking.
i beg to differ, many men have the same "dream".
i'm glad you have an opinion about the topic.
In a way, you perhaps shouldn't be surprised. Because if your writing was inspired by something about stalking--it clearly came through as an unhealthy feeling in the piece.
(I had no intention of hurting your feelings with my response. I'm sorry if I did.) :(
my concern is that when writers express something, it can be taken too literally, either as the truth or their own personal experience. it's intriguing to put oneself inside the thoughts, but more important to be able to return to equilibrium and reality.
part of the mystique of writing is leaving a question in the reader's mind, to wrestle with and examine from all different angles.
is this true? real? fabricated? a lie? partly true? which parts?
yes, very complex. no hurt feelings at all, in fact, i'm flattered you were disturbed.