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Fifty shades of tricpe

2 comments, 3708 views, posted 9:02 pm 28/01/2013 in Books & Poetry by tricpe
tricpe has 15542 posts, 6887 threads, 267 points, location: In a pair of Speedo
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Marko! The name struck her like thunder, causing an earthquake in her soul and body. In an instant, she froze, incapable of any articulated move. Then her knees shook, a wave that spread to her whole body, all the way up to the lower jaw. Terrified, she kept saying "Marko! Marko!"
Chaos broke out in her soul, because she remembered everything. Every word, every look, every kiss. Once again she saw the amount of her being that she put into that man and once again she thought that she could never forgive him leaving her. Only now was she able to put into words exactly all the feelings she had for him. While they were together, she did not think of herself as a whole, rather she believed from the bottom of her heart that she was one only with him. That's why it hurt so much.
Once again she remembered how she put her young body and soul around him, giving in to him, believing he was also giving in to her. How naive! She used to think that the two of them were two drinks destined to mix and make a beautiful cocktail, but it turned out that he was the slimy oil that came to the top, and she was smelly water that fell to the bottom. She was rejected like an organ after transplantation. She wasn't sure if his intention was to hurt her, but it is what he did. She thought that she could never heal. Furthermore, she felt as if she died after he was gone.
Now she could feel tears building up, her shoulders and head bowed, her breasts were rapidly losing the battle against gravity. Once again she remembered the good times, feeling fresh like a bowl of fruit. Then he left, the fruit rotted away, spreading the smell and attracting the flies. After all this time, someone (time?) washed and dried the bowl. Although clean, she felt empty, a vacuum that caused her body to implode. As if someone just took the soul out of the body. Pain, powerlessness, misery and rage took over. She was whimpering his name, numb with pain, totally unaware of the world around her.
The very moment she felt first tear appearing in the corner of the left eye, something snapped. The tear never made it. She felt at peace. Eye of the storm. Everything stopped. She imagined she was an airplane that suddenly left the strong turbulence field and continued with smooth flight. If she really did die, THIS was the moment of resurrection. The Phoenix will fly again!
No sound reached her ears, because the room was still. Her brown eyes wandered aimlessly across the room. Then she noticed that she wasn't breathing. Instead of panic, she felt full control. She stayed like that, her lungs empty, for a second or two, and then she took a long breath. It pumped her up, straightened her body, stretched her shoulders, breasts reached former firmness, her hands laid at her knees. Only the head remained lowered, but she had control over it. She was aware of every single cell in her body, she reckoned.
She closed her eyes, emptied her lungs once again, and filled them up again. She lifted her head, opened her eyes and put her lower jaw just a bit to the front. Finally, slowly and quietly, she said „Marko!“ while a glimpse of a viscous smile danced on her lips. Things don't have to be the same this time. This time, she was ready!

Extra Points Given by:

thomasslavin (5), REALITY (10)


9:03 pm 28/01/2013


(Un-?)fortunately, this is NOT an autobiography piece, rather a small thought experiment I came up with. You can consider it a prologue for the book that will never be written...

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