Perception

HIS

 

I showered her with roses

Left love notes in her pocket

I looked after her in passing

And wore her picture in a locket

 

I asked her to the movies

and then to a dinner date

Her smile melted my heart

But she said no, I’d have to wait

 

I longed to touch her skin

To feel the warmth of her hand

My dreams turned very hot

It was more than I could stand

 

I heard a scream from the window

coming from her house one night

I climbed the tree to her aid

to save her from her fright

 

Her hands ran against my chest

thanking me for coming inside

I kissed her cheeks and lips

Comforted her while she cried

 

Her arms grasped me tighter

As I fell more deeply in her covers

My body exulted in the feel

that she and I were finally lovers

 

I can’t wait to see her again

My love for her won’t be denied

Better than my dreams combined

She will be my lovely bride

HERS

 

He flooded me with thorns

Left notes hidden in my things

Followed me in the halls

His voice in my head rings

 

He asked me to a dark place

And to a strange part of town

He grinned like I was some angel

complete with golden crown

 

He stared at me through the day

his eyes red and gleaming

I had nightmares of his presence

And would often wake up screaming

 

I turned over to go back to sleep

but heard a noise from outside

A man was opening the window

I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t hide

 

I pushed my hands against him

but he came at me like a bear

He smothered my face with his

and I struggled to get air

 

I clawed at him, fighting back

and struggled with all my might

But he was stronger and in charge

And I surrendered to my fright

 

I don’t want to see him again

in nightmares or in life

I can’t stop the fear from taking me

It’s time to find the knife

Color

Red Sunset. CC2.0 photo by Petteri Sulonen.

It was not a dark and stormy night. It was just a regular Tuesday. The world cried black tears of smog as the roaring fire consumed the town. The flames licked its lips relishing in the taste of the scorched earth. Everything was black and red. It was beautiful.

When the black clouds cleared, the survivors of the burned town argued and cried for the heads of different suspects. Some cried to kill all the dragons. Some pointed out certain women and cried witch. Others screamed out that it was the drunken smithy, asleep at the furnace again. They all tried their best to put something or someone at fault in order to create a reasonable explanation for the chaos that had occurred.

The corner of the empty matchbox in my pocket dug into my leg. All this just because I wanted to see the world in a different color.