 |  | She, Herself and then there was I |
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I admired from afar, my life was mere putty in Her hands, crafty, calloused and rough, She moulded me into something I was not. But that did not matter to me, for it felt as if I was loved, regardless if Her touch was rough, and Her breath was shallow, Her eyes small and piercing, I love her. She used me for days, months and years, and one day, She finally placed me at the top of Her shelf, as a price for Her hard work. Priding Herself in Her accomplishments, She left me alone, and I stood there, staring and waiting. She began crafting more, others, prettier or handsomer things than I. And I stood by, showering her with praise, clapping my hands together and nodding in approval, yet feeling a strange pulling in my heartstrings, a faint nudging in my mind, but by ignoring it, it vanished as quickly as it came. So I returned to my admiring, and to my waiting. She looked at me, smiling, and Her eyes twinkling with mirth, She pulled my arm, whispering my name, and that stare, I simply couldn’t ignore Her encouragements, so I did what she asked, touched Her, loved Her, made Her mine just for that simple night. And when She was done, she placed me back on her shelf. Taking down somebody else, Her smile not directed at me, Her laugh, and charms were once more given to somebody else. I did not know what else to do, so I stand here, staring, admiring and just waiting for that same smile being directed at me. | ||||||||||||||
 | haleløs | 2012-05-06 11:45:04 |
clay molded into something nice; but not useful? hmmm ... charmingly well-written! sincerely ...
| nhuth | 2012-05-06 12:45:06 |
Dagens udfordring. Engelsk - OK. Jeg véd ikke hvorfor, men jeg nyder at læse det. Sådan lidt på afstand, måske hedder denne følelse "backstage"? Aner det ikke, men smukt er det i beskrivelsen af én der ikke formår at tage aktivt del i sit eget liv.
Tak
Vh. Nhuth
Tak
Vh. Nhuth
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