Noir Wanderland

Clouds of gray hovering over crowds of dismay. Reluctantly receptive to the story in which many of them have lived. Hurt filled hearts wondering aimlessly. Colliding only to produce other hurt filled hearts taking aim at me. He pointed in my direction, his canon of whispers. Filling my ears with all the sweet things it loves to taste and devour. I was lured out of my dungeon; hiding from adores beam of resurrection. Slowly I began to experience one of the very things I vowed to never again. You could say he was an enlightening charmer. The Casanova we all hope would whisk us away into clouds of bliss and seas of romance. He did. If I never knew magic, I knew it at that moment. Then I realized after all the fights and long nights of tear filled eyes why I hide myself in that dungeon. Perplexed as to why I allowed sweet whispers to once again create havoc. Now those clouds of gray I desperately wanted to escape are found hovering once again. Pondering how I could be lost in another’s soul: entrapment. Bewildered in a counterfeit persona. It’s evident my foolish heart would truly jump into the deepest of seas without the skills of swimming. Forced back into solitude from failed attempts of trusting others. Maybe it is I that lacks the ability to love: to let go and evolve into a hybrid form. I suppose the answer comes when the destruction settles and I am reborn. Recreated and resurrected to be all the dreams I fathomed about the capacity of true loves thorns and flowers.