Nature Boy’s story

…and so i have taken wordpress’ challenge to write a little bit of a novel every day, enjoy…

p.s. this should be read with Nat King Cole’s ‘nature boy’ playing in the background.

Like a violin his stringed heart bled all over the coffee table.

And so, from the beginning, before his heart hung helpless on that casket…

One night the fates conspired and brought two broken souls/together they danced and spoke in tongues and their heads were filled with hallucinogens.

So the mescaline-induced, twirling dreams and greatest love story starts/at its core two souls with broken hearts/those wounds healed with each massage/she gave a kiss and gave him her heart.

Her hair grew long, his eyes grew fond, she aged in love as her innocence grew.

Oh, the boy was sweet he carried her around, on his back, entwined he gave her his soul and she a kiss.

It continued for so long…

But, the night was drawing near/real world was creeping in/they twirled and she realised the dream, the love, the thing she wanted.

The truth dawned, it spread through her body, she slipped each finger through her own and she let go.

She knew what she must do, to live in a world like this, sacrifices were made, love was lost, her heart told her to run and be someone, not an apparition living in a halo of comfort and self but one that matters.

And in the quiet of the night she slipped away.

Placing a foot on the first of so many ice sheets, she drifted/no word of goodbye, no tears.

Continents apart the iceberg took her so she could be a one,a  single, an individual/walking in my sleep so you can’t have me.

He woke, and with her no longer there he searched high and low, in the cupboard he threw his chequered shirt aside and crept inside, the glimmer of light pierced through the slates of the doors, though the woods, snow between his toes.

He fell to the ground, beside himself, his heart in his mouth, red burst out of him and he sank to his knees, a voiceless cry of loss, the words of How Could You left to the wind.

But she called to him and sang to him. On her ice cap she sang a song and its note would float back to him/she was so lost she wished to the stars that she could be the one that she was before him/with him.

And so the poisonous thoughts they crept in through the pores, ate away at the love, at the idealisation.

Her heart froze and then it got smashed into a hundred flurrys of petals, hopes dashed/the last note was pulled from heart and it fell like a knife on his heart/dead this love which fate brought forth from broken souls.

The young soul too lost in his own self missed her last note, just a prick, that’s all that she finally meant to him, to him she was no more, gone and all he felt was one last prick.

In that haze he believed/he continued his life/vans and hallucinogens with whisky in a tumbler so he lived his days till that another note reached him.

Behind the red swing doors, a line of woeful song, a tango, oooh that tango with that sigh, a final note from the violin that would break his heart.

He fell over the chipped, brazen, empty coffee table.

The red of those two souls still stains that wooden floor.

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