Worthy of You

Reads: 124  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 10

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man named Hunter has paranoia about not being worthy. The last time he asks if he is "worthy of you" is it his heart or paranoia talking?

Submitted: August 18, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 18, 2017

A A A

A A A


Daylight 

In apocalypse of dawn, innocent children of the earth are born. The day has polite colour in skies a photographic memory. Clouds move slow because they don't want to leave the colouring in of day. Flowers grow in all of their colour to bring the rainbow back to earth. The flowers heartless of the rainbow, the sun the stolen pot of gold. The entrance of birds meaning now that once invisible wind can be seen. The sun held to ransom in the morning, negotiates skin cancer. Children opening their eyes for the first time, seeing the land of no crime.

A woman is opening the downstairs curtains, the world looks certain. Her home stands above the ocean, lighthouse for ships to see in the dark. Opening the window the air of the ocean will engulf her with scent. The air is calm on this day for the day is a beautiful picture. Flowers grow around her home in illuminating colours of bloom. Different coloured flowers growing to show the rainbow of the world. No one cutting their wrists in heaven, it won't downpour heavy today. Her eyes are ships in oceans, reaching destination of emotion.

Unknown noise walking down the stairs, the ghost or the monster only cares. The noise stops on one silent spot and the noise is never heard again. No change in the sky outside, it keeps the heartbeat of healthy weather. The woman will turn around, dizziness from her own self tornado. Her eyes beckon on Hunter her partner of the last several years. He will look outside the window with her in romance to stalk the world. Romance of their world is a shadow of dark clouds in a perfect sky. The sun has just reached sunrise, in hearts of love a glorious surprise.

Their relationship has never been healthy, the poor never wealthy. Putting his right hand on her shoulder without the need of a strong hold. The woman will feel a shiver to her spine, touch of silent winter. He keeps his hand in place and slowly it brings the warmth of love to her. It isn't working so she will move it away, his touch mechanical. From the open window a butterfly will fly and land on her hand. The butterflies wings are colourless and parade in no direction. It will fly away with colourless wings torn, leaving lovers forlorn. 

He takes something from his pocket, page of love lost from his eye socket. Before he hands it to her his eyes start crying turbulent lightning. Stealing a line he once saw from the story by an unknown author. His eyes the black wreckage, an aeroplane going down a waterfall. Her eyes see the doom of a crystal ball, silent death with no future. She sees a piece of paper all folded up so it must be important. Not understanding why he guards it like a queen sitting on the throne. Keeping it locked in the clutches of his hands, the black paradise of sands.

HUNTER

Why am I soul crying instead of speaking fucking words to you only? I have something here that I have wanted to give to you forever more....My writing has no meaning now, so I must rip this into six pieces....

Hunter hands over the piece of paper, fear is like falling from a skyscraper. Clementine will take it and unravel it seeing glorious words. For moments she will stay silent so that she can read in entirety. Her eyes slow clouds waiting to pen the storm on the paper of the sky. Hunter has waited so many years for Clementine to read this note. Reading the words sailing on oceans, written on page wreckage at sea. Words have more meaning on paper, passenger on the white aeroplane. Eyes dry up drowning the city, only he swims in his own pity. 

The Letter

Wanting to become your friend my one wish
Before I spoke my first word to your eyes
I feared my words would be blocked in your heart
How would I be worthy of your friendship?

I could offer definement of friendship
I could offer the loyalty desired
The support when the world would break you down
But how would I give this letter to you?

I feel the angel that meant to be your friend
Come into my direction of caring
I will remove the last ditch in the road
As a friend would I be worthy of you?

CLEMENTINE

You became my friend without this white letter, then became my dark lover....Worthy of friendship concrete yes, worthy of love you are unsure yes?

HUNTER

This letter now has no relevance as we have passed that holiday....Worthless I am to impress you, in desire am I worthy of you?

Clementine places the note on the table, silent words never able. Leaving Hunter in the room's view, half of his heart hanging off the cliff. The wrong tunnel to write when the moon of love eclipses that of friendship. His head is killing him for he is asking the wrong questions again. The loss of Clementine would be victory for his paranoia. If words in his head were people they would be killed for writing a book. Looking at the bleak letter, the lyrics written to a dead boy's poem. Hunter sighs as he needs to become a man, for which only he can.

Other things in life as human as skin and blood, still the world can flood. The earth we stand on made of paper because blood of the pen is ink. Each word written by the poet we will walk another step on earth. The pen runs out of ink, paper human beings a paragraph short. The paper becomes folded to die in the bin; contract signed by God. When no name is written on the paper, origami funeral. Wind blowing the paper away no one can ever pay their respects. Being human that wind a tornado that can't explain, deathly pain. 

Clementine now in a new place, leaving the boy who thinks loves a race. Closing his eyes to clear his mind, he needs to stop anxiety. He follows Clementine into the kitchen for escape from his mind. He needs to listen to Clementine and not the words inside his head. A new room offers scenery Hunter will try to remember that. He once got a tattoo of Clementine, human skin playing hangman. Her name tattooed bleeding blood, love in her heart drawn by the tattooist. Into a new room his escape, leaving words that only commit rape. 

Clementine is hungry and looks for food, appetite for a good mood. She looks into the hungry fridge, as empty as her own stomach. No food anywhere and feeling more hungry with each passing second. Hunter will keep out of her way and the mild weather will change outside. Sun and rain sing together to create a rainbow in the light sky. Water from the tap, God's tears for when heaven is bleeding in his hands. Clementine is finding the kitchen empty and her stomach growls more. Hunter being no help at all, the spirit of hunger will now crawl.

Growling of her stomach sounding like a loaded gun, all food will run. The rainbow now black and white, zebra crossing for people in the clouds. Angelus is frozen because he doesn't help his Clementine at all. When his eyes close, the dark nighted star under his eyelids, the mist north. The kitchen is feeling like it needs electric to keep it going. She sits down on a chair so that the lack of food won't drain her soul down. Into the eyes of Angelus seeing nothing but a boy crying. The ambulance that broke down to save love, now the mended cloud above.

In her hands is just bland rice, uncooked and not tasting quite very nice. Clementine will throw it in the bin and look around for a menu. Earth nearing the third world, only available aid cannibalism. All other food left is out of date; no good for her growling stomach. Death from starvation feeling incoming; her body yearning for food. Asteroids hitting stars, cars hitting people, all universal death. Accepting defeat in her search for food she will not look anymore. She will give up in her search for food, leaves her body in a bad mood.

HUNTER

Clementine my pale love, come upstairs with me please to save your starving soul....

Out of the kitchen they will walk, being upstairs the street that will stalk. Slowly walking behind Clementine as they walk the stairs to somewhere. On the wall of the stairs there are framed pictures of them in happy times. Hunter getting a glimpse of them when walking slow behind Clementine. They walk into their bedroom that is painted black and red in colour. On the dressing table placed some things, pop song became a metal song. Disturbing things the play toy of a psycho, classroom for murderers. Looking like a depression table, is he really quite that stable?

CLEMENTINE

You are facing desperation when not on the face of your lover's eyes....I are not Juliet, nor you are Romeo drinking the green poison....Don't shallow me when making this a tragedy, love is not suicide....

Hunter is seeing the thorn, the flower of Clementine never born. The dressing table contains a sad reconstruction for suicide. A bottle of poison with two glass viles for the perfect slumbered sleep. A giant dagger that will bleed the protective red wall of any heart. Hunter reconstructing a tragedy, the play of life's suicide. Clementine not a character written, she will not fake her own death. Hunter ready to prove he is worthy of dark romanticism inside. To prove his worth he will act depression, killing roads of progression.

HUNTER

Tell me my black angel of death, which shall I use to prove most worthy of you? The slow acting poison will give us time together to make our hold last....The dagger will slay my red heart and in blood write the damage of your name....Do you want me to cut out my heart and place it in my hand for just you? 

CLEMENTINE

You make our love prove worthy to fucking nothing, and bleed for nothing more? You are illusioned with paranoia, and your soul is the one starving....Fucking nothing to prove to me, yet my answer is the one dying here....Combine the poison with the dagger, and please die in your own tragic play....

Clementine sick of the same words being talked, her worthy love now stalked. She will leave the bedroom  leaving Hunter to die in his own story. He picks up the bottle of poison; drinking it will kill him softly. Picking up the two glass viles he does not pour any poison in them. If filled the viles are lovers, people with a poisonous tragedy. He picks up the dagger ready to impale it through his own lost heart. If contact is made, it would slice his heart like an apple with cancer. Putting suicidal things away, proving worthy to save the day.

The bedroom is left an untouched crime scene, love being bullied and mean. Hunter has left the bedroom and stands still to think of paranoia. He has the love of the most beautiful woman; he's worthy of it. Always asking her if going to brainwash love into the word hate. He walks downstairs to see Clementine look for food instead of true love. She cannot look to face Hunter, his picture clouded insanity. Her eyes looking elsewhere, for one day only becoming the white ghost. She will speak to him divorcing words, his heart becomes a flock of birds.

CLEMENTINE

Hunter you are becoming a puppet with incomplete human parts love....I have never run into the arms of another man, and will not now....My virginity was worthy of only you the night that it left me....Now our love is you raping your own blood with a knife so passionate blood....I don't want to see your blood raped, for I see the big moon depart early....Leave me with divorcing time, your paranoia needs to go or I will....

Darkness

For hours Hunter been in the dark alone, no one to call on his phone. The night is a colder dark and the moon is bright enough for monsters. The cold air a new prescription of pills, headache of paranoia. Seeing people cross the road and walk into unknown alleys of rape. Only thinking about Clementine and being a better boyfriend. Crossing a zebra crossing in the dark, playing chess with black demons. The walk has done him good and he will walk the long way home as always. Tragedy no longer worthy, no longer on ships sailing scurvy. 

Following the stars as a compass, the black sky a beautiful mass. More stars out on this night to shine the brightest, freedom from the moon. Stars building the largest necklace, engagement present for Mother Earth. Clementine should be here because she would of loved this night of darkness. The moon a disco ball for the people of prom on the earth below. The holding holds of stars a reminder to once cherish Clementine. Sky departed clouds of the day tomorrow turning autumn to ashes. Time for Hunter to come home, he's not the gladiator to save Rome.

Walking on the beach to watch the poisoned sea, being frozen his key. When stars reflect on the ocean they are tears for a soul once missing. The night painted with a brush and landscape that never needed water. Counting the stars, a number stolen to build clouds of love for daylight. Forgetting the stars he counted, losing the deposit of her heart. Looking at his watch it is getting late and the night getting blacker. His paranoia a split personality between day and night. Coming home to Clementine, blood of the sky black night not doing fine.

The world is painted faint, not the white wings of the most angelic saint. Castle of broken heart, needing a drawbridge to gain a heart attack. His eyes see a blurry distance going on for miles of forever. His head is clear of the paranoia that nearly cost him. Clementine will be waiting for him to return in a better state. Hunter needed the fresh air of night that would make love a dark shadow. His eyes are flying, carrying the blind eyesight of a broken heart. He makes the lonely walk that will take time, eyes counting stars that don't rhyme.

Hearing the crashing waves, making the water we drink become slaves. The noise of crashing waves enchanting enough to calm headaches inside. People in love walk on the beach hand in hand to show sands of embrace. Hunter believing that should be him and Clementine when they don't fight. Children building sand castles, lovers drowning in the waters of love. Fireworks sign language for deaf people, hard of hearing causes brain damage. Seeing pictures being made in the sky the most lush. His eyes explore seeing the fireworks destroy, love is a fragile toy.

Walking to darkness where he is gone, scenery of stars down to one. Unknown shadows behind him stalk knives into his back like pins in wool. Stabbing him in his organs in  alphabetical order placed first. Hunter feels the lonely floor as his building of bones collapses a bridge. The unthinkable blood erupting from the volcano always lost. His body a painting, sold for nothing when only a forgery. His blood dripping paranoia, mourning unfinished cemetery. His body closing down fast, in Clementine's eyes lover of the past.

Hunter cannot see his attackers because of the dark night, his plight. The black shadows around him a camoflagued abyss of the unknown. His eyes are wearing down only seeing a millennium of dark. Moving along the ground, popular building demolished yesterday. Somehow still alive as he is crawling in his own blood and organs. Organs that are hanging like rope, around his neck failing suicide. Eyes of a dark shadow meeting his the night becomes a staring contest. Hunter gouges his eyes to blind him, fading light slowly fading dim.

Hunter still feeling the pain of his hurt, crawling in blood and the dirt. One of the shadows blind, sunglasses do not offer better eyesight. Hunter will crawl onto the shadow and strangle it until it dies. The other shadow will slice a fatal vein on the arm of Hunter. Life now fading as flowing blood is the most beautiful waterfall. Name of this person bleeding from skin, the hunter becomes the hunted. The blood supply of his heart in a few moments now in a coma. A waterfall crashing down when the water dries out, life now has doubt.

Hunter is laying on his back, waiting for the black night to attack. A few seconds of life he has left before curtains close on his life. A cold blade touching his throat, theory of blade and blood having sex. Hunter will headbutt the shadow in the face making them drop the knife. Seeing it in his eye sight he will pick up the blade in his weak hand. Stabbing the shadow in the head, music played on bone piano notes. His own life falling over when blood decides to go to a new place. His life is not ending yet, seeing Clementine his last loving bet. 

Everything moving while he is fading, cutting the wrong vein blading. Slowly bleeding out but not letting that stop him walk the long way home. His body of water now sprinkling the ground to already dead flowers. On the ground sliding like a snake, heart shedding skin to be broken. He is pressing against his body to keep his own organs inside. Blood dripping to leave a trail,  in violence the snake eats mortal mice. Making it to his front door barely has energy to open it. Held in the arms of Clementine for brief time, love a poetic rhyme. 

CLEMENTINE

What happened to your fading soul my love, I should of never let you go....Held in my arms I must ask, can you say yes to a marriage proposal? 

HUNTER

The night kept me away from you my love, but my words are worthy of yes....Clementine I ask one more time to save myself, am I worthy of you? 

Silence in invisible air, for that question once more he did dare. Before she can answer the news is being told on television. It grabs her attention because the woman telling the news has truth. A murder happened earlier tonight and the victim was Hunter. When Clementine turns around he has already faded forever. He died in the attack, and returned to her one last time as a ghost. Returned a ghost to ask, and got no answer as only silence stayed. Clementine left on her own, the one worthy is now an empty throne.

Worthy of You © 2017 Dexter Angelus Draven. All rights reserved. 


© Copyright 2017 LeParadisNoirPoetique. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Poetry Short Stories

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by LeParadisNoirPoetique

Popular Tags