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| Image Source: Francesca Woodman |
I was a ruin when you met me. An ancient one at that. You fell in love with my cracks, the dust gathering around my soul. But you lost interest, you always do.
Like the time you craved perfection, when you knew from the beginning that I was not. In fact, I'm scared of shiny, new things, unlike you. Things that have no soul; unblemished, untainted.
My roots go deep. You prefer to admire me from far, yet, you will never make me home...
Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 303.
I like the freedom expressed here...nice...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tess!
DeleteLovely prose ....
ReplyDeleteThanks Helen :)
DeleteIt ain't over yet
ReplyDeleteOne can only hope.
DeleteNicely written Aathira!
ReplyDeleteThanks Reema :)
Deletedefinitely his loss.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kathe!
DeleteFeels lonely to me. But as an ancient ruin, I can relate.
ReplyDeleteThank you! Glad you could relate.
Delete:D
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this one…such a pensive, solemn mood to it…yet not despondent in any sense. Nice!
ReplyDelete=)
Thanks you, Susan!
DeleteVery intense lines to express her soul and feelings for him.
ReplyDeleteRead my thoughts on the same image here:
http://livetolovelifecrazy.blogspot.com/2016/01/the-ghost-within.html
Thank you, Rashmi. I'm on my way to your blog.
DeleteThis is thoughtful and true. It shows...life experience and maturity.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteThank you!
Delete