Never Let You Go

They were walking home, just the two of them, after a dazzling night. She was wearing a sapphire Gown that shimmered as she walked. He looked so charming in his neatly pressed shirt and brand new tie; she could hardly keep herself from blushing every time he looked at her. He smiled, took her hand, and for a moment squeezed it tight. She squeezed it back, taking a step closer towards him. I never want to let you go, she thoUght.

Suddenly, as they turned the corner, they were greeted by a pair of blinding headlights and the frantic screeching of car tires. She remembered screaming, panicking, tripping over her silver high heels and tumbling off the sidewalk onto a pAtch of grass. Everything went black. The next thing she knew, she was bent over his limp body, covered in his blood, sobbing her eyes out.

“Excuse me miss,” said a gentle voice. She snapped out of her trance and looked up to see a young nurse in front of her. “The gentleman in room 201 is ready to see you.” Numbly, she Rose to her feet. What time was it? How long had she been waiting in the hospital for? It didn't matter. He was ready to see her, which meant... he was alive. With a small breath of hope, she silently followed the nurse to his room. She took a breath, and gingerly opened the door. There he was, motionless with his eyes closed on the beD. His hair was still streaked with blood, and he had burn marks on hIs face, accentuated by the paleness of his skin and the whiteness of the sheets. He looked like a ghost. No. She turned towards the window, where the first streAks of dawn peeked over the horizon and into the room. His eyelashes fluttered and slowly opened. Her heart melted. He looked like an angel. New tears sprung to her eyes as she flew to his bedside, caressing his bruised face and kissing his swollen lips. Shakily, he brought his haNd to her cheek and held it there. For as long as I live, I will never let you go, he thought. She stayed with him for two days and two nights, then went home. She visited him every single day, and prayed that he would make it out of the hospital.

One day, on her usual trip up to his hospital room, she was stopped by one of his nurses. Quietly, the nurse gAve her a small box and an envelope, and told her to go home and rest. No, she thought, heart racing in terror, this can’t be possible. As soon as she got home she cried. She cried more than she’d ever cried in her entire life, eveN more than she cried when she was holding his weak, almost lifeless body on the street that night. Wiping away the last tear, she picked up the box and the envelope. The box was small, just small enough to fit inside the palm of her hand. She wrapped her fingers around it. The box was soft, velvety to the touch. Carefully, she lifted the lid. Inside the box was a silver ring, studded with a small blue gem. A sapphire, one whose shade matched perfectly the colour of the dress she wore that night. She opened the envelope. It contained only one small sLip of paper, with only one handwritten line on it.

I will never let you go.

Dark Angel

Tinted angel

With darkened wings

You catch my eye

Then leave

Why is it that

I’m always left

With only a thread

Of mystery

You’re like a shadow

Like the wind

Quiet whisper of

A song

As soon as I

Open my eyes

To catch a glimpse,

You’re gone

You’re magnetizing,

Poisonous,

Unlike anything

I’ve known

Fallen angel

Like a rose

But in darkness

You have grown

Dangerous, sweet,

Masked wanderer

Step slowly into

My dreams

By my side

Like a silhouette

But too far to touch,

It seems

Prince of night

Come nearer still

Hold me in

Your gaze

Let me look

In your deep eyes

Let me learn

Your ways

Hypnotise me,

Steal my mind

As you have done to

My heart

Fold your wings

Around me

Make sure we

Never part

The End of the Tunnel

By 11pm that night she was sobbing uncontrollably. She had carelessly dropped her heart, and it had shattered into a million pieces. In her misery and desPeration, she pushed away the only person who could have heLped her put it back together. He was the only one who knew exactly how the piEces fit into each other, maybe because often times he knew her even better than she knew herself. But nonetheless, she tried to shove him away like he didn’t matter. Maybe it was pArtially his fault after all, but who’s to judge that? She didn’t know exactly how hard She’d pushed him back, but she knew she could expect him to walk away without a backward glance. So, she clutched the pieces of her heart in her hand and turned away, running into a tunnel of darkness, where she sat and drowned herselF in her own bitter tears, not knOwing what to do or how to do it. When her sobs subsided, she staRed down at the broken, lonely shards in her hands. Sighing, she slowly turned her head to look back at the entrance of the tunnel she sprinted throuGh. It was bright, almost too bright to see anything, but she could tell. He wasn’t there. ‘Understandable,’ she thought, ‘he had a rIght to leave. After everything that’s happened, he had eVery right.’ Even with these seemingly confident thoughts in her mind, she felt new tears well up in her eyes. And just when it almost became too blurry to see, a shadow appeared in the entryway of the tunnEl. It was a shadow she had come to know very well. The shadow silently stepped to the centre of the light and stopped, as if waiting for something. Disbelief paralyzed her entire body. The shadow spoke, quietly, but just enough for the walls of the tunnel to carry his words to her ears. “I am here. Don’t you ever forget that.” Awestruck, she rose slowly to her feet. His shadow shifted, and he opened his arMs towards her. She didn’t know what to say. Feelings of love and pain flooded her mind, colliding into each other in yet another heated battlE. They both had left scars there before, but which one would prevail this time? She looked back at entrance. He was still there, arms outstretched, waiting patiently. Taking in a deep breath, she raised her head and took step towards him. 

Sestina- Frosted Glass

A floating figure cloaked in translucent brilliance

Glides over the land, crowned in glimmering silver.

She dances a graceful duet with her own shadow,

Then she descends over the land in practiced silence,

Her every step quieter than the whisper

Of a pin as it hits a floor made of glass.

She reaches out her fingers to a stained glass

Window, admiring its polished brilliance.

But to the glass she offers the slightest whisper,

Which clouds it, transforming it to icy silver.

She stares at the mirror in awe, barely noticing that silence

Had fallen with the night, leaving her in cold shadows

Realizing, she touches her crown, then turns to the shadow,

“Is this what I am crowned for?” She asks the looking glass.

But only her reflection in the ice stares back, silently.

Suddenly, her mind, once free and filled with brilliant

Thoughts, feels trapped underneath her wreath of silver,

Longing to once again chase the wind’s whisper.

She flees her thoughts, flying past branches whispering

Desperate warnings as she plunges into the shadowy

Night. She doesn’t know she leaves behind a silver

Streak of frost and coats bare branches with glass.

She doesn’t know, until she turns around to a brilliant

Snow globe scene, her doing, standing in frozen silence.

It dawns on her that her coronation is not a gift, but a silent

Curse, to steal the breath of even the most cautious whisperer

And from everything else around her, to turn nature into a brilliant

Picture, but only coloured in with white and shadows.

Beautiful as it is, it may as well be carved of glass,

Captured and drained of life, with only a dusting of silver.

As her cursed fingertips turn the entire world silver,

She can find no words to speak, despite her silencing

Everything around her. The rose-coloured glasses

She once wore have disappeared without a whisper,

Leaving her alone in a land darkened by her own shadows.

To think she could have been something brilliant.

With a sigh, her glassy eyes turn towards the land of silver;

Sparkling, brilliant, crystalline, icy, cold, motionless, silent.

“Winter has come”, she whispers, then vanishes into the shadows.

Sestina- Are We Memories Yet?

On the far side of the camera lenses, a furl of leaves

Catch the wind and tumble to the ground, like coins of gold

Catching their last glimpses of light as they are tossed into a treasure

Chest and sealed away to dusty attics filled with memories

And the quietest whispers of gossip and sworn-by secrets

Locked away in diaries, guarded by old wooden window frames

Under the cracked glass of delicate picture frames

Lies a collage of smiling faces still living beautiful memories

Of years past. If they were scattered outside into the golden

Sunlight, they would happily dance with the ensemble of leaves;

They would give away every single one of their secrets

To the wind, and share the joy that is their only treasure.

But they are immobile, sitting patiently on top of the old treasure

Chest. The last streaks of sunset glow through the withering window frames

Falling on a ring of intricately designed keys, their majestic silver and gold

Bodies no longer sparkling, dulled by a sprinkling of dust left

Behind by years and years of chaperoning secrets

Carefully bound with locks whose locations are now faded memories

A small ballerina in a corner of the room, as if remembering

The season, pushes away the antique hand-painted frame

Of her chamber and begins to spin. She was once a treasured

Heirloom, but that was long ago, and the only audience she has left

Now is a room full of objects of the past, nothing but lonely secrets.

Nonetheless, she dances, softly sighing deep in her heart of gold.

The sun’s rays flicker outside, and for a single golden

Moment, like feeling of anticipation before hearing a secret,

The room lights up, glowing like a coin in a treasure

Chest. But then it fades, the glimpse of hope so quickly turns to a memory,

Tucked away in the depths of the attic. And the cracked picture frame

Meets the settling dust, they way the ground meets falling leaves.

Once secrets have been whispered, their precious golden

Contents no longer contained, they become memories that are left

Behind to be treasured, (or not,) but seen only through lenses and frames.