Ghost of a memory

Posted: October 26, 2012 in complexity, Emotions, immagination, Love, Memories, Randoms, Weirdness
Tags: , , , ,

Softly, it creeps next to me. An aura of warmness that slowly structures and reforms itself as it grows into a fading existence, a subtle creation of my restless subconscious. A substitute to ease my burning desire, to bring the ache to an end, and to revive a memory once abolished.

Softly, it crawls into the abyss within myself. A temporary sense of living lures; A heartbeat. An extended breath that goes deep into the pits of pierced lungs. My subconscious revels in the ambiance of a once relevant atmosphere. Pampered with the lust it feels once again. Tarnished feelings reborn.

Softly, it embraces me. It slides over my skin, soothes the twitching body,  fills up the spaces between my fingers, presses over my feeble hands, sucking the pain out of a vulnerable me. A presence, I can’t see. A presence that grows potent and significant towards my side. Provoking.

A rush of cold air blows, as though the ghost of my everlasting memory blew a sinister breath that evoked consciousness whining in remorse. Aching in remembrance, rendered helpless to pathetic reminiscing.

A sigh escaped. A tear followed, as the relics of an existence my subconsciousness put together was vaporized into nothingness. Sheer nothingness. Vanished into thin air.

The memory subsides.

  1. A Freind says:

    And thus, the writer in you rears her face. I pray these not be the emotions and feelings you get ere the eve of such a glorious feast.

    Reading again, a foreboding feeling chills my very core, the strength of these words could only be amplified by the feelings within me myself and I. For in a way or another, they were the same. Yet I mourn different things.

    The numbers 87 Flash brilliantly before my eyes as I realize what I have put aside for the past month, neglecting only to work and kill my soul slowly. And now I fear it be too late, for only as the last traces of a soul long dead escape my body do I realize how important what I have set aside was to me.

    87 will not be how it ends. I am yet determined to chase my soul, The 87th page of the third segment of the first saga will not be its end. I refuse it. Yet I know that silently I will find a way, as ever, to put away this blazing lust for continuation, in a vain attempt at a grade I do not remotely care about.

    Fate indeed is a cruel mistress.

    Note: Find out who I am and what is it I mean by in this little riddle and I will be impressed.. Although I might have ruined it by two less than subtle hints.

  2. Rana says:

    Now that I have figured out who you are, I thank you.
    87 is only the start, my friend. Just like you’ve temporarily put your lust aside, the urge should bring it back to life soon enough.
    Good luck 🙂

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