Love, War, Peace, Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Lovers caught in the world of love, war, peace, death. Will they survive them all together?


The Man in Love –

We reveal when we are in love, so hold me when the skies are above. Silence consuming as I begin to shiver cold, a premonition of when my years will get older. I can’t be with you as time passes by so quickly to turn the water of life into sand. The love I share with you is there when the skies in my heart are blue. Thinking of you my heart is a gift basket, but it doesn’t want to buy you, it just wants to love you free of charge. Yet each distant day away is like a funeral, because you are more than six feet away. I will hold you in my heart forever, nailed on two crosses as two souls found forever. Within my message the flame of my love burns, like a piece of paper when it means nothing anymore.

When the skies are blue and the clouds empty, your eyes are the blue world spinning aplenty. Birds have the whole world to fly because there will be no castles in the sky. When the greens are poetically green, the sand is a sickly piece of jewellery that is not gold. I hold out my hand and she will take it, needing a guide for when love is blind. Her heart is innocent and free from disease, unlike a poor prostitute fucking the streets with syphilis. It is virginal and never contrasted the tides of love, the virgin dolphin and the rapist shark. I am no rapist when I write her poetry, in different ink so that love can see. Our hearts are breathing like blown leaves, where damage will be done after the relationship has started.

Opening up the sun, creating a light for the heart to run. As we hold our love together, our hearts are a blood clot to last forever. The city found in lost waters before the war, as mythical as Atlantis. Love is the language spoken silently, impossible to understand if you are not bilingual. Breathing heavily as we walk into each other’s hearts, the tornado will damage or kill. I am shivering under the cold avalanche of your heart, for winter came when you forgot to cry. Our love is both ends of the rainbow, but instead of gold my slit wrists will show. Playing my first song on the violin, my veins the string of a musical protégée,

In love time passes by so quickly, that makes the moments gone quick sickly. I will have to leave soon, and that is when time will stop working. I put my hands on your face, reaching the moon in the sky. The skies are departing in my heart for I have to leave for the lands of death. Telling you the love he has for her will always be there, even when he is walking in a foreign field. Telling you that I will hold her like his sword, like a sword impaled into the enemy. It will not let go, because it is something that is stuck forever. Within my message I ask you if your love for me will always be warm in the fire we created.

“Will you keep me in your heart like the clouds abandoning the moon? I will soon disappear, and I will feel like the dark in the night. I will return to you, even in death…”


The Man in War

Love shall always be there, for it is life making us care. Heroes are born in war, even when they die, and this leaves love feeling like a soldier of mortality. Running away becomes a destiny, because your love is departing like the clouds. Crossing lonely seas on ships, crashing into rocks without guidance. Along untold roads my body drives my heart into crashing. The years become so long, but for you I stay strong. Fighting into freedom for you, the skies are a funeral, the sun was depressed.

My journey has left you alone, but love is always there in the heart of a person, even if they are eternities apart. Fallen angels we are not so it is not our farewell. Our wings are changed to stone, mistaken for gargoyles at the gates. My heart is now born in war, but it is sleeping weakly without the sex of your name. Running away from the one you love to become a hero on the battlefield, the birth and death of life. On one knee holding a grenade, the engagement ring for the enemy. The sirens of screaming bombing all around me, blood spilling and gore learning to speak make survival slim. I throw the grenade like a baseball, striking out the enemy and making their team fall.

Blood on my face, I am the army of one standing in place. Fighting the enemy to keep alive, I can imagine you here, and your blood mortal dies. When the night comes, there is no light switch on the war field. With other men I do not know, they cross lonely seas that are as lonely as his love. The seas so lonely that even sirens are a husband deep in cold waters because of scurvy. The disease leaving the sirens a widow, both one with the sea depressed and lonely. Cutting into the chest of my enemy, a volcano is leaking from a human. The colour of blood is the rose of the heart gone red, bullets impale me so the rose without water is nearly dead.

I’m mortally back on land, holding a girl’s invisible hand. The hand carrying me as the roads are untold, and the cards in a game of poker fold. The years that passed have become as long as a snake, constricting my heart out of air. The hand cannot guide me as you are a lost desire, a ghost trying to use a compass. I keeps fighting into freedom for you so that I can finally reach the road that leads to your name. Several letters missing on the sign that gives directions, I wrote a note on a different continent. The wounds of war cause me hallucinations of the woman I love, but in death she will be a cloud that fades when life is over. My body is still punctured by bullets that are making blood water flowers. Blood impersonating water, a flower losing humanity.

Fighting into freedom I am surrounded and outnumbered, and even the sun has now slumbered. The enemy will circle me to lock me inside a shape, holding knives that love to rape. Holes in my pouring body are the missing bullets of a gun. Slowly the blood of a volcano is erupting for the first time in twenty years. The enemy will cut my face, and the blood, is leaves departing from the autumn tree. A tree without leaves is a human body without breathing. The enemy stabs me with knives and my body is becoming a piece of art that is painted by death. War is the battle inside my heart that will last for years, love is the first soldier down when this occurs.

Blood soaks the ground underneath me and him, a new scam for making people get slim. The enemy is making a map on my skin, and it will lead to my death. I am stood like a building and now I am collapsing like a bridge. Cutting up my stomach like Michael Myers meeting a girl on Halloween, pulling out intestines that are a healthier form of spaghetti. Digging deep into my heart, it’s a total eclipse when Bonnie Tyler is singing. My eyes losing colour like the sky being drawn without the sun. Before I die, I will think of your summer face, yet I will be the one to bathe in cold earth. Fighting into freedom I fought for only her, I lost after the time they were.

“My blood draining is the footsteps that will never find you. The enemy gunning down our romance. Sleeping forever now, only thinking of you…”


The Woman in Peace –

While there is love and war, peace is forgotten because it never happens. People losing their lives sometimes are forgotten, buried six foot deep and rotting. While there is love and war, we forget peace as world’s tore. People losing their lives never forgotten, buried six foot deep and rotten. I forgot that I was with you always, because time has been on life support, because it feels like love is on a coma. I has never received one letter because ink is now just a piece of dead earth. With the years suddenly gone by, peace becomes threatening in a person’s heart. All I want is to go outside without fear being a battlefield. Waiting for you is a crime, but I’ll hold your hand in time.

Every soul is always fighting a battle of love and war and losing their lives, dying to knives, and leaving lonely wives. Suicidal souls use the dagger of Juliet because it touches their heart more than the hands of their lover. The most is lost when we are fighting, and peace will take years to count the seven billion jigsaw pieces known as people. The years have passed by, and I am still in the same home, just sitting in older skin. I am looking at a framed photo of your face, and you have not aged one day, because the presence of your youth is still here. My eyesight is here but my love is not, because I don’t know if you were stabbed and shot. I live in peace by myself while you are the book missing from the bookshelf.

Many people lost their lives during the years of night and day, each a balloon losing air as they fly away. The air of death awaits when a reaper is ready to become your friend. On this summer day, I feel a presence of cold death behind me. I don’t know if it is haunting me or still loving me. Something is standing behind her that cannot be seen by a mortal eye. It’s like someone has broken into my home, but all it is, is from the light of the sun outside. I still feel something wanting to touch my hand but there is nothing warm to hold in this home anymore.

The years have passed by faster than a flock of birds, flying away with the love letters containing his words. I am too old to believe in hope, that I have outlived the snow, and the light of the sun. Cutting myself and my blood is trying to start a conversation with my skin. I will open the front door and you still haven’t returned home. There is nothing there, just the presence of cold air. The fading sun a desolate innocence as I received cancer in my older years. It cannot be cured, and neither can my heart. It’s just a matter of time of which reaches me first; you or cancer. Either way I will be giving myself to death as I enjoy the ashes of autumn.

I take my first steps outside in what feels like years, and it rains like heaven is crying for someone. Seeing everyone walking outside in the sun again, they all live in peace without the weakness of a vampire. The sun is not important to me anymore because I cannot walk into it with you. The only thing I can do under the sun is die in it alone. I look up into the sun to see that peace has a light. The sun is the light on a candle, and when the night comes, the candle will run out of light, and I will run out of life. I feel the ghost of you standing next to me because my hand feels colder than the winter that was here instead last year. The wind is getting harsher as it begins to bully the light of the sun.

“Look at this, the peace that is existing outside. Maybe you were the reason for this because you have been at war for most of my life. Our love is dead, maybe just like you, yet still to me, if it is your cold presence I feel, it will bring me more peace than a mortal sun…”


The Woman in Death –

“I am counting down the last minutes of my life, and I am still waiting for you. I fell in love with you, then you went to war without me, and I found peace without you. We were great at one thing, and I think for the last milestone of my life, it will be without you…”

When tragedy is forgotten I live again in you. I face death in you because the sky is a departing blue. The years may have passed like children growing into adults. I was here for you, but now angels don’t watch. I wait for a reaper for I don’t fear his scythe. I want to hold the hand of something cold because it will be a piece of your soul. Love that was our lifetime will be remembered like a rhyme. You stayed but I’m gone, the sun of day, the moon of night.

The sun uses batteries that don’t last for long because light doesn’t survive long during one day anymore. The moon is more energy efficient because it lasts for longer when placed in a dark mode sky. The wind outside is sounding like a ghost learning how to haunt. Knocking on my door like a vampire asking to be invited in. I am not scared because my death will be the fairy tale of my own life. Nothing dark or gothic about it, welcome to the machine called real life.

In the life of a girl who became a woman that grew old, it has become a tragedy of this story told. Since you were the first to leave, my life became a theatre of tragedy, and my tears are the encore for a silent audience. All alone and I did not receive one message. You are still with me somehow, and for all I know, you could be haunting my life right now. I have been alone for years because solitude was the lover after you. Smoking a cigarette to gain cancer instead of a cure, I’m chopping off another five minutes of my youth. With no more family or friends, life ends.

Our love lasted a brief time, but I have existed into the old age of mortality. The sun has gone down on my health and the shade has welcomed me to my deathbed. If only you could hear as I cough violently, the aeroplane in flight will crash. Love became a black paradise years ago, because without you here, my heart has been beating ashes. If I were to write your name on a piece of paper I would be two words short. The pen running out of ink, your love sinking in my heart.

The rainbow faded years ago when it became colourless. Struggling to breathe, for no one who will grieve. Every time I cry, the four walls made of stone, still emotionless. A knife has always been placed on my bedroom table and it is my loyal bible. Looking at the silver blade and the philosophy of a knife is quite religious. Picking it up with my last piece of strength and I will be saved. Touching the blade feels like the love of your hand, the gentle land. You once gave this knife to me as a present to save my own life. Now both my love and death belong to the blade. Holding it in my hand I am the reaper with a scythe.

The stormy weather in my throat is proving the forecast wrong, blame it on the weatherman. It predicts a strong wind, but I didn’t even feel that. The knife makes a bridge across my throat, so life can once walk, and then float in the blood of death. Eyes open for a few moments and the ghost of him is seen briefly. Every time I blink the ghost of you is fading evermore. You were haunting me all along as you see me alive one final time. You are more alive than me as I close the curtains to my eyes. Blood is pouring like a stream and to stay alive it needs to find the love of a river. His ghost will fade away as the woman dies. In death she will be loved, there will be no war, there will be peace, and they will be two bright stars in death.

Love, War, Peace, Death © 2021 Dexter Angelus Draven. All rights reserved.

Submitted: September 30, 2021

© Copyright 2021 TheGothicSinner. All rights reserved.

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