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This diary entry is written by ‹defineMANIAC›. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: The Mortician's Daughter in category Random Writing

The Traveller's SonCategory: Random Writing
Friday, 20 April 2012
11:52:20 AM (GMT)
I watch from a distance.
Afraid of contact.
From the small window at the top of my cellar.
The one I can only reach if I stand tiptoe on a coffin.

There's a boy.
Tanned skin unlike my own.
From playing, like he is now, in the glare of the sun.
I smile, watching when I should be working.

Until one day.
I stand on the mahogany coffin.
And there's no one to watch.
No brown haired boy.
No hawk swooping onto his shoulder.
No beautiful smile that matches the sun.

I cry.
I remember speaking to him.
Thinking that he hated me.
Him laughing at me.
I curl up and cry.
My father comforts me.

He finally comes to me.
I learn his name.
His height.
His age.
And I tie a label around his wrist.
His hand lingering in mine.
I stand beside his mahogany bed.
And I close his eyes.
A tear landing on his neck.
Creating swirling red patterns with his blood.
Sleep well, my love.

‹mÿlö xÿlötö› says :   20 April 2012   148055  
Awwwwwwwwh! ;-;


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