She laid silently, as all that was familiar was swept into the cold, unforgiving wind. Beneath every feeling of security and understanding was the inevitable, knowing that she was unbearably lost and forsaken by all she thought to be dear. The promised warmth of her fingertips, slowly vanished as the dark crept into every crevice of her unmoving figure. Eyes of the spectators were, as before, scaled by a hidden existence — an underlying secret to all.
February 25, 2011
Writer’s Note: I’m not really sure if anything more will come of this, but I am proud of it. Actually, I am so proud of this, that I don’t feel the need for a “proof-reader” like I usually do with my writings. The typical routine would be a screening process of a trusting few, for many of what you read. I guess what I love so much about this, is that this is me, my writing, without constraint. I am pleased.