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Random short stories and bad poetry

[walkingonoranges]

Longing to hear your voice for such a long time almost makes me forget what it sounds like, but then again, how could I ever forget the thing that reminds me of my humanity? I never knew love had a sound, until I heard your laugh with the ears of a prisoner.

[walkingonoranges]

Obsession

Why, he asked himself. Why did he have to love someone like her? He should have known, he should have seen this coming. However, he was too blinded by his love towards her; he was too oblivious to notice.

She could not help it though. She loved the way his breath hitched when she dragged the knife closer to his throat ever so slowly. The fear in his eyes, the sweat glistening on his forehead and way he would beg her to stop when she dug her fingernails into his bruised skin. She loved the sound of his voice going hoarse after screaming in pain. The woman couldn’t get enough of him. She loved him so dearly, and so did he. He held her so close to his fragile heart.

The man couldn’t help falling in love with the smile that decorated her sun-kissed face or the way her touch got ever so slightly gentler when his wrists were about to be cut open by the restrains that kept him bound to the chair. She couldn’t get enough of seeing the red liquid drip onto the floor after cutting the man’s thighs open repeatedly, adding more bruises and cuts to his tender body. Oh, how she loved him when his tear and blood stained face looked up at her only to be laughed at.

However, she grew bored of him. The blood staining her clothes and his pained whines annoyed her. She did not enjoy watching his cut up and bloody body try to move away as she got closer anymore. He was a toy, a mere puppet which only served one purpose in life– to satisfy her twisted thoughts caused by her growing obsession. Now she just wanted him gone, to be disposed of like all of the other women and men before him.

She tried to get rid of him in a fun way this time. Therefore, she cut him loose and watched him struggle out of the chair. The woman watched the man’s weak body slowly try to escape, crawling on the blood soaked floor. As much as he loved her, he just couldn’t bare the amount of pain she put him through just to feed into her obsession with pain and fear. He didn’t dare look back to meet her addicting gaze. The man didn’t waste any time and moved up the stairs and out the door as quickly as his weak and fragile body would allow him.

The woman loved it. She felt shivers run down her spine in anticipation watching him crawl away. It’s as if someone flipped a switch inside of that twisted brain of hers. She suddenly felt possessive over the male that is now staining her floors. She couldn’t let him leave just yet. She sprinted upstairs, catching the almost unconscious man off guard. She quickly got on top of him, pinning his wrists beside his head. He was a dead man and he knew it. The way the female stared down at him made him wish, he just died immediately. The gore of the past few months became a sickness in his emotions; a mind-twisting wave of panic consumed his mind, reaching far beyond any physical retching. The next thing the woman did made him feel sick to his stomach, disgust spreading throughout the male’s body, making him fall into an immensely obnoxious vertigo. The only thing he could do was cry out in pain, watching the woman as she cut a fatal wound into his chest. She brought the knife up to her face and licked the blood off it while looking into his eyes. The man wanted to look away, but he couldn’t prevent himself from maintaining eye contact. Maybe it was the curiosity that was plaguing his brain, or did he like it? He was no masochist in any way, he had experienced enough of it throughout his life, emotional and physical pain, but something about that woman just enchanted him. Feeling his own life slip away, he grabbed the knife and slit the woman’s throat. Her yelp was cut off by blood rushing down her neck and onto the man’s chest. She collapsed with a smile on her face next to him. Both of them maintaining eye contact as they let themselves slip into an eternal state of unconsciousness.

[walkingonoranges]

I feel your warmth in every candle I light

Feel your caress in every breeze at night

Think of your words when I cower

And see you in every blooming flower