LikeASnowflake
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 8, 2012
- Posts
- 654
Today is not a good day at all.
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Things are going a bit better...
Like a snowflake landing on your hand, melting away
Running down your fingertips, kissing the ground.
Ready to commit, to submit, to trip, to slip, to fall so deep in love.
Falling into the little puddle created by the ones who touched your hand before me. Too many, all perfect, beautiful, whole. Not me.
Gracing your skin for seconds, hours, days, weeks, years.
Like memories. Melting all into that dirty puddle. Melting into each other. Becoming one. Loosing their identity, uniqueness, purpose.
Simply existing as one big sea of broken souls.
Now lying at your feet. Desperately holding onto the soles of your shoes. Being sucked back into that dirty puddle. Dirty from your mistakes, the pain you caused, the broken promises, your darkest secrets. All united, multiplying each other.
Looking right at you. Pleading, screaming, crying for your attention. But never heard. Too many noises blocking out each other. Screaming over each other. Making it impossible to understand them.
Each new drop is met with jealousy, hate, despise. Gathering around it. Sucking it right into the puddle. Merciless. Cold.
Ending their lives. Beginning a new one as the little pool at your feet. Bowing their heads. Ready to do anything. Freeing you of the dirt stuck on your soles as you dip deep into the sea with hard pronounced steps. Laud. Painful. Heartless.
Never getting more than that. Never giving up. Never standing a chance to be MORE.
More than the muddy water. More than a snowflake washing your hands clean.
You are grateful for what they do. All working together but never does one snowflake stand out. You became numb to their caress. Too many have done it before me. The memories blending into each other.
Realization washes over me. Dirty, cold, painful, merciless, loud, hard, heartless. Like the puddle underneath your shoe.
Like a snowflake landing on your hand, melting away
Running down your fingertips, kissing the ground.
Ready to commit, to submit, to trip, to slip, to fall so deep in love.
Falling into the little puddle created by the ones who touched your hand before me. Too many, all perfect, beautiful, whole. Not me.
Gracing your skin for seconds, hours, days, weeks, years.
Like memories. Melting all into that dirty puddle. Melting into each other. Becoming one. Loosing their identity, uniqueness, purpose.
Simply existing as one big sea of broken souls.
Now lying at your feet. Desperately holding onto the soles of your shoes. Being sucked back into that dirty puddle. Dirty from your mistakes, the pain you caused, the broken promises, your darkest secrets. All united, multiplying each other.
Looking right at you. Pleading, screaming, crying for your attention. But never heard. Too many noises blocking out each other. Screaming over each other. Making it impossible to understand them.
Each new drop is met with jealousy, hate, despise. Gathering around it. Sucking it right into the puddle. Merciless. Cold.
Ending their lives. Beginning a new one as the little pool at your feet. Bowing their heads. Ready to do anything. Freeing you of the dirt stuck on your soles as you dip deep into the sea with hard pronounced steps. Laud. Painful. Heartless.
Never getting more than that. Never giving up. Never standing a chance to be MORE.
More than the muddy water. More than a snowflake washing your hands clean.
You are grateful for what they do. All working together but never does one snowflake stand out. You became numb to their caress. Too many have done it before me. The memories blending into each other.
Realization washes over me. Dirty, cold, painful, merciless, loud, hard, heartless. Like the puddle underneath your shoe.
This is beyond sad. I just want to ((((hug))) you.
That is really pretty but so terribly sad. Did you write that? If so, props on your skills and hugs for the sadness.
What's up Pmann? Under the weather?
Sickness has its ups and downs I suppose.
Why does one park on a driveway, but drive on a parkway?
I ruined my advent calendar because I couldn't get out the chocolate. FAIL!
1) I am happy that you are happier now than you were in August when you wrote your beautiful prose. Also happy that you shared it.
2) Did you have a "Bad Santa" moment with your Advent calendar, darling??