I miss being able to pretend that she was mine.
Lonely road
By Bryan Baca
Our love was the kind of love that happens when a man meets his match in soul, in mind, and in sanity. Our relationship had died long before you left me. The hapless necromancer that I am couldnt help trying to whip a heartbeat back into that festered equine.
It didnt start out that way, but nothing ever does. No rose blooms smelling of ruin and the flowers that do are deathtraps. You passed me a note, one day, in class that asked what my journal was. That was the start of it. The start of a journey that, three years down the road, would fall by the wayside.
It suffered along the way. It bled along the way. It died some three miles back.
Weve come so far, lost so many bits of ourselves, are worse for the wear, and better for it. The obstacles that rose against us only served to strengthen our bond. The bandits tried their hands, they fell and armed us. The beasts tried their jaws, they fell and fed us. The tempests came and tried to drown us; in the end, they filled our canteens.
Little did we know that the one assault that would break us, the teeth that would finally sink in, the squall that would knock us over would come from within.
I was so busy trying to keep us alive that I failed to notice that you had stopped smiling. We shivered so much that I never felt your kiss grow cold. I told you, in the dark of our starless nights together, that everything would be ok. You smiled one last time and said, I know.
Then you left.
Lonely road
By Bryan Baca
Our love was the kind of love that happens when a man meets his match in soul, in mind, and in sanity. Our relationship had died long before you left me. The hapless necromancer that I am couldnt help trying to whip a heartbeat back into that festered equine.
It didnt start out that way, but nothing ever does. No rose blooms smelling of ruin and the flowers that do are deathtraps. You passed me a note, one day, in class that asked what my journal was. That was the start of it. The start of a journey that, three years down the road, would fall by the wayside.
It suffered along the way. It bled along the way. It died some three miles back.
Weve come so far, lost so many bits of ourselves, are worse for the wear, and better for it. The obstacles that rose against us only served to strengthen our bond. The bandits tried their hands, they fell and armed us. The beasts tried their jaws, they fell and fed us. The tempests came and tried to drown us; in the end, they filled our canteens.
Little did we know that the one assault that would break us, the teeth that would finally sink in, the squall that would knock us over would come from within.
I was so busy trying to keep us alive that I failed to notice that you had stopped smiling. We shivered so much that I never felt your kiss grow cold. I told you, in the dark of our starless nights together, that everything would be ok. You smiled one last time and said, I know.
Then you left.