Thursday, July 25, 2013

lover, you should've come over

"it's not over, it was never over," he said with utter despair, accompanied with a static sigh, similar to the cacophonous sounds on the radio made over 65 days. "lover, you should've come over."

click. the sound of the last recorded message seemed like it echoed over the ocean, floating amongst the waves, almost rife, but it was necessity as it heads towards the shore. this record, a constant loop like through forestry, stealthily avoiding the greenery, leaf by leaf, tree by tree. the twists and turns, puts the best pilots of emotions to awe. he was the best pilot there is, or so he thought.

lonely is the room, and the bed is made, with the windows open letting the rain in. he looked at his hands, as it trembles twice to every second that his heart beats. he could almost hear the blood coursing through his veins, he could almost hear his impulse at every pulse. he could almost hear the anguish, the dashed hopes and the tribulations. he waited to call again, but the daunting task and the whole ordeal he had to endure from all the messages he left, had left him emotionally languid. devoid of hope and bereft of spirits.

this state of emotion, brings into motion, the elated elation of commotion of the heart sensing the tremors of the thrill, and the fervor of the suspense that it builds. it takes years to master, the cascading of clusters of cluster made of cryptic synaptic mnemonic neural navigatory lost and found. it was, cerebral, immaterial much more than it was a feeling of the extra-sensory perception, premonition or intuition.

a broken man, broken down and hungry for love with no way to feed it. she is on his mind so, but she will never know. his body turns and yearns, for the sleep that won't ever come. as his thoughts go astray, to memories and images of her. his longing for her, he would give his kingdom, for a kiss on her shoulder. he would give his riches, for her smiles when he once slept so soft against her. he would give all his blood to hear again the sweetness of her laughter. she would forever be the last tear that hangs in his soul forever.

"lover, i'll wait for you and i'll burn, will i ever see your sweet return," he whispered to himself, "lover, you should've come over, it's never too late, it's never over."

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