- Artwork: Manipulations by Blekotakra
I often think that night is more alive and more richly colored than the day- Vincent Van Gogh
And she was just a little girl, perhaps because she felt like one with wide thoughts chasing away dreams in those nerdy head of hers. One blink at the sight of darkness, the aroma of illusions bewildered her; a past with a faded future blurred with violence and love and the charm beneath the legs.
After all, she was little in her thinking and lonely at heart that she called her demon “Teddy”, the only name which rang countless of times when she held the sheets in despair during bits of drowning in lasting imaginations caught within walls of sadness and pain, arouses and tears. A moment she couldn’t get hold of, with only its shells left behind; they were all in her head clouding her judgement between a dream and a yearning fantasy capturing her soul like the awakening of the night.
The sweetest night was in the dark where she couldn’t feel her eyes as they breathed life into souls far away from her.
The heart is a wicked place!