30 Jan 2009


And if I think about it thoroughly, maybe she didn’t save me, after all. That is only how I desire to remember, an homage to her pretty face. True, she had kept watch over me, but all I had needed was a sound night’s sleep; no demons did she excorcise, no poisons did she suck out of me. It was just the picture of her face, when I awoke: so angelic, almost as I imagine halos to be worn did she wear the light of that morning. I ascribed everything to what struck me, just then, created a myth out of a photograph in time. And the three days that we had, that kiss that still haunts me — the heart can craft such a story when it is taken by beauty. But still, I will never truly shake it all off, the memory of that light. However much I decide it was ordinary, it will fill a unique hole in the center of my soul.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

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