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HeartbreakMy hand is dripping blood unto the floor,Heartbreak
pooling between the door and the wall, melding into the tile.
You beckoned me towards you and I fled for a chance to be held, just one more time
your eyes were warm,
gleaming.
I could not see your hand, hidden, crossed fingers and the hint of a giddy smile
you blind-sighted me,
enough time only to reach my shaking,
overjoyed fingers and caress your sweet face soft, lovely, welcoming,
before the door frame slammed shut snapping what was left of
by *xxdominoe
The Death of George BerkeleyThe Irish bishop lay his head on his pillow with a great sigh, the world had left him exhausted. The dog lay at his feet and rest its head upon the cold floor. The nuns gossiped about frivolities and the delicacies of heaven, their laughter crowded under the frame of the door with a gentle chime. The sun slowed its heat and sank beneath the bluffs and the pines and the earth heaved a sigh as the waves crashed, sending plumes of mist to cover the grass. But the bishop was restless, his mind could not cease its churning. The fog sent shivers down his spine as it swept across the grains of his windowpane, and he reached out his shaking hand to cThe Death of George Berkeley
by *xxdominoe
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xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
sorry if i post it at reply, i can't post on comment box.
--
i'm not afraid to die. but i'm afraid to dry./
"Je ne suis pas d’accord avec ce que vous dites, mais je me
battrai jusqu’? la mort pour que vous ayez le droit de le dire"
xo!
shane
--
an antique arms and armor expert
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