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Notes10/20/2018
Kylesa
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Kylesa
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17
Of love, pain and melancholy
Is it longing that keeps us imprisoned.
Is it the many memories that pull like clouds in the sky.
Is it the desire for closeness, painfully sharp in our soul.
Or is it the moment that keeps us together forever.
This afternoon the sun shone through the small window.
Soft warm light danced in the room and touched her skin warming.
She got up and put on her saffron yellow dress.
Combed her shiny black hair and put it loosely together.
On the small wooden table stood a fine vase with a bouquet of fragrantly soft flowers. They gently radiated their scent.
She closed the door behind her and went into the stairwell. The air seemed soft and waxy, permeated by diffuse dark smoke.
Delicate sweetness spread.
Together with the dark scent of the wood panelling it gave a feeling of home.
She went out onto the street and closed the second door behind her.
Forever?
Their way led to the park, to the little bridge, where they always met.
She felt the cold of the autumn wind penetrating her.
But her heart was full of love and warmth and hope.
She breathed the earth and gentle mosses.
The wood and resin of the old trees, soft and sweet, their scent lay in the air.
A quiet fear spread through her.
Like black clouds they flew over their minds.
Would he be there waiting for you?
Had he read your letter?
Her letter, with all her secret wishes and dreams.
She saw the bridge and a darkly dressed person stood there.
Waiting.
Her footsteps became faster and her heart pounded. The world around them seemed to stand still.
A delicate touch of vanilla and tobacco blew towards her.
She knew she would never return, and she closed those two doors forever.
For a short moment she felt the melancholy in her heart and the painfully warm tears wetting her face.
Melancholy
Is it the many memories that pull like clouds in the sky.
Is it the desire for closeness, painfully sharp in our soul.
Or is it the moment that keeps us together forever.
This afternoon the sun shone through the small window.
Soft warm light danced in the room and touched her skin warming.
She got up and put on her saffron yellow dress.
Combed her shiny black hair and put it loosely together.
On the small wooden table stood a fine vase with a bouquet of fragrantly soft flowers. They gently radiated their scent.
She closed the door behind her and went into the stairwell. The air seemed soft and waxy, permeated by diffuse dark smoke.
Delicate sweetness spread.
Together with the dark scent of the wood panelling it gave a feeling of home.
She went out onto the street and closed the second door behind her.
Forever?
Their way led to the park, to the little bridge, where they always met.
She felt the cold of the autumn wind penetrating her.
But her heart was full of love and warmth and hope.
She breathed the earth and gentle mosses.
The wood and resin of the old trees, soft and sweet, their scent lay in the air.
A quiet fear spread through her.
Like black clouds they flew over their minds.
Would he be there waiting for you?
Had he read your letter?
Her letter, with all her secret wishes and dreams.
She saw the bridge and a darkly dressed person stood there.
Waiting.
Her footsteps became faster and her heart pounded. The world around them seemed to stand still.
A delicate touch of vanilla and tobacco blew towards her.
She knew she would never return, and she closed those two doors forever.
For a short moment she felt the melancholy in her heart and the painfully warm tears wetting her face.
Melancholy
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