literature

Books

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AngeloDellaMusica's avatar
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Literature Text

   'What are you doing?' His voice was slurred with sleep and muted by the dark.
    'Thinking. Feeling.' I was still, and I watched him.
    'That again?'
    'Yeah.' You see, I had these feelings sometimes- when only stars were in the sky and everything had slowed and he was breathing quietly beside me, there was a tempest caged within my ribs, waves of steel breaking against my heart. So I'd move carefully, so as not to wake him, and move to the chair in the corner, so he wouldn't drown. And I would... draw. My eyes would trace lines, and the ink was a word that has no definition and cannot be spoken, and it felt like dying.
    'You think too much.'
    'I know. Someday I'll figure it out though.' He was a question, and its answer.
    'I know you will.' He rose and walked to me through the darkness, and took my hands.
    I think I loved him. But that was many centuries ago, and now we've gone.
Written at 1:00 a.m. One of the few pieces I've written recently (and those have been scarce) that I actually want to share. This is called 'Books' because sometimes I get a feeling like this about them. This bit of text is also about more than that. Make of it what you will. 

Feedback always appreciated.
© 2015 - 2024 AngeloDellaMusica
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Starija's avatar
"tempest caged within my ribs" is a great line, delivered in just the right place. and i'm not exactly sure what to make of this, but all the sounds are appropriate, i see that much.