He could have sworn he heard her voice,
The cherry like voice,
Only that this sounded strangled,
But he was sure like death it speaks of her,
He knew there's no way,
The imaginary world could be this real,
Because this⦠her voice was real.
But it doesn't make sense for she was gone,
It shouldn't have, but so is the essence of life,
Pain surges through his scalp,
Pressing round his head like a ring from hell,
And he should have screamed at the world
Through gritted bloody teeth.
But the sound of her voice wouldn't let him.
No. It has to be real.
It was the only truth he could hold on to.
His mind had been cleared, was it not?
He couldn't have imagined her voice, did he?
The realness and clarity of it,
Like he was in the room with her,
His brain hammered, his heart froze.
His mind scattered around with no breath,
His lungs found an unimaginable flap of breath,
As if the life in him didn't want him gone, yet?
To the world where her realest part now belongs,
Salty water stung his eyes,
His throat let out a painful sore cry,
As his eyes found the source of the voice.
Fate had done its job,
The cruel one it never misses to dish out,
Like Santa on every Christmas morning,
Only that this was real.
Her curly black sun kissed hair,
The doe eye that made crescent moon jealous,
Her soft, thin lip andβ¦
But her look was different. It wasn't hers.
His frozen heart quickly released a breath,
A breath so hot it almost fried his mind,
More salty waters found their way,
Into his pale reddened face,
And before he could give death its pleasurable moment,
Her voice came again,
With the face of the woman he had never met before.
Still yours truly,
Balikis.
Thanks for reading.
Peace be unto those who crave it and more to those who chase it away.
