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Soldier Within the torpid darkness lays a hopeful soldier. His movements always in great celerity and good judgment. His strength seems to come from the Gods for it shows every time he stands. In his arms lay weapons of only defense and in his chest breathes out fire. Across the jungles, across the plains, across the insanity that only those who do not appreciate are to blame. His walk is endless no matter how tired his knees grow. He searches, and he searches. and finally, In his sight is a woman of broken skin. Her wounds cling deeply to every sin. Every scrape, every burn, every pinch and inch is left marked. In his sight she stands on the edge of a high cliff, in a burning desire to jump. To let go. To be free. This hopeful soldier has seen the tribulations in her eyes, and like the mother of Christ. He succumbs his soul to her. She sees the purity in his soul beckoning her from the edge. Covered in tar for furbelows on her soiled dress, she stares in utter confusion. In midst of the questions if God has abandoned her? He sits patiently meditating. She who is gravid with dark intentions to herself, grows curious of the light she sees. His eyes are luminous like the sunlight, she feels she has been forbidden to see. His skin is color of a sweet cinnamon, with a smile that makes her heart crumble. Disintegrating from this neoteric concept that is bestowed upon her. He speaks. He whispers. She stops and she sits to only mock what she thinks will not last. But when he speaks to her, a mellifluous song beating straight from his heart to hers. Songs that share his own tragedies and she comprehend they share stories. He leans in with his soul and she wants to touch him. On this cliff, on this edge where nothing grows. Her heart beats like pins and needles in a can. The sensation is felt and more than audible to any ear. The sensation is captivating and steals a piece of her slowly. The mockery has stopped. He slides a little closer with the same winsome intentions. He speaks and compliments and her face is flushed. In her own chagrin she tries to cover up. But he does not care about her wounds, her body, her face, he simply sees her soul. Unveiled and helpless, the pins and needles stop. And she hears a heartbeat.

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A very brief tale of the meeting of 2 broken people falling in love.


1/7/2010 9:03 AM Premium
Great Stuff! Remember to use the "Promote This Media" section to post this on other networks.

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Votes: 6
Views: 2,628
Date: 9/22/09
Other: Writing