Leaves would descend as her journey perished. Should not leaves fall in Autumn? It was only June, the oak next to me still holding its abundant shape. Chlorophyll drained like an open wound. I began to weaken. A soul so youthful…now gone. Branches remained bleak, for weeks they could not revive me, even an ocean would not suffice. As the sun shimmered over the knoll that enchanted morning, men unearthed the dull prairie beneath me. Her delicate frame tickled my once thirsty roots. Feeling the force to prevail dejection, a soul was provoking my survival. I awake. Discovering an urgency to live, the cold gravestone giving me a pulse. Casting her a shade, providing protection from the burning solar. I can live for her. A towering Oak tree has been resurrected by a once youthful soul…now gone.
The release one is looking for while fumbling franticly like life depended on it literally, life depending on it a razor slicing into naked flesh separating into two she had a hard time believing it having contemplated the blood that flows many times before it was a distant thought becoming reality lips forming a smile memories flashing reminders of the pain I think I will be happier here my purpose only being to suffer I can only sit back to watch watch the memories fade into something that is no longer a past just a distant memory that holds no meaning that many will soon forget and look past no longer here I cant worry won't cry I am where I should be blood spilling down trying to feel the release but don't... still feeling pain the remorse... then one I've never felt until now: defeat.