Archived writings (Apr 2006): Ex 2 - Short detailed emotions

BEAUTY

The folds of the petals are so soft and silky to the touch. So tender and delicate, it seems as though a simple breath could prove disastrous. The brightness of the white rose, so gentle and pure, gracefully dancing in the light and playful summer breeze is completely breathtaking. The soft flowing veins within each petal to guide the bees to nectar is god’s map to bliss. The aroma of the rose is pure and unadulterated. No artificial chemical compound can come close to the pure essence of the rose. The heady aroma flows lightly upon the summer air and I drift slowly into a daydream state remembering youthful days spent in my mother’s rose garden.


BEAUTY II

His eyes are transfixed and are unable to move. There she is, sitting on the park bench ahead of him so free and yet so alone. His gaze moves over her slowly. Her hair is radiant under the sun’s afternoon rays and flows down her back like a satin river of ebony. He wants to reach out and put his fingers through the long soft strands and lose himself in the light and fresh shampoo that she always uses. The wind catches her skirt and playfully brushes against her legs. He sees that she has been out walking again as her skin is brushed with a tint of coppery bronze. He remembers when she cries her blue eyes turn to a shade of translucent blue glass that tears his heart open. He knows he hurt her. Will she ever forgive him?


LAUGHTER

Their eyes are alive with the fierceness of playful giddiness. She tries to recapture her composure and puts on the attempted mask of serious defence and manages to blurt out ‘Stop tickling me! I MEAN it!’ His grin slowly expands across his face like the Cheshire cat’s as his arms reaches out to her body. Her chest heaves with anticipated breath, as she now knows her fate. She’s caught and there’s no escape. His hands are quick and alive. They’re all over her body like lightning, lightly touching, gentle tickles that never end. Her laugh escapes uncontrollably and she can’t catch her breath. Her face is flushed as she squirms under his weight. His laughter at her roars and he continues his pursuit.


LOVE

She has never felt this before, this strange foreign emotion. She looks into his eyes and she sees him, not the façade he projects into the surrounding world; but the pure, strong, beautiful essence that is his masculinity. His eyes are deep they seem to draw her soul into him. He smiles at her lovingly and she knows that he will not hurt her, that she is finally safe. His strength not only radiates from him physically, but emotionally as well and she feels as though this is the one person in this world she can let inside her heart. He will protect and honour this fragile item and protect it even from her self-deprecating mind. A part of her mind is fighting this, saying this is corny, he would never feel this way about you… but he steps forward and close enough for her to smell his freshly scented soap and is finally able to relax in the nearness of him. She can feel his breath on her skin. His hands reach out and slowly caress her shoulders. He knows she’s dealing with many emotions and family issues – some of which she has not let him in to know yet. She is so delicate that he feels the need to protect her from even the slightest harm. He takes her into his arms and she collapses into his body. His strength she has learned to rely on is here and now.


HATE /RAGE

The dark energy overtakes my body, making my core shake. My extremities are on fire and it is though I will explode in a nanosecond. My heart is now cold and dead as I glare at my enemy. Love does not exist in this place, only the darkest, deepest, most vile and disturbing hate that cannot even be named. I try and spit but the taste cannot be purged. I loathe this beast and the only thing stopping me from tearing into his skin with my fingernails and ripping his black heart out with my bare hands is the fact that prison bars separate him from me. I feel my eyes are on fire as I completely lose control, screaming, killing him with my mind in so many horrific, x-rated ways full of blood, guts and gore. The sounds that come out of my mouth are no longer human; they are from my primal core – dark, anguished and full of anger and power – and yet there is silence. I stare at him with the will to taste blood. My attorney turns to me to ask if I would like something to drink. I smile at my thoughts as I would reply ‘Yes, to taste in the victory of his death, I would like some of his blood’. I turn to the young struggling soul beside me and reply ‘No, I am fine. Thank you.’