FictionWhen love diesIt, too, is the work of Death:Let me drown in fictionIf only through clicheCan I spoil Death's conditionOf pulling you away.
LongingThe strong scent of smoke permeated in the air. She wassmoking her cigarette and the wind was blowing our way.I could see her hair flowing with it. Behind all the locksI could spot a glimpse of her eyes that held universes I knewnothing of. A world that would forever be lost to me. The skywas a deep blue then. A vast emptiness that seemed to pull mein deeper and deeper. It felt as if the wind was blowing mecloser towards the sky; a nostalgia I could feel beneath my skin,eternally trapped in that blue, empty space.She was someone I wanted to protect all my life. To keep her close.To keep the warmth of that smile in my hands so that it wouldnever go cold. She was my hope and I loved her. We were in high schoolback then. We weren’t close friends in particular. She had her owngroup of friends and I had the stairs on which I had usually sat onand read books. She approached me and asked if she could borrow one.But all I read were Shakespeare books so I knew none would su