Dark as chocolate

The hour struck 29 as the day had not yet ended, I lay awake in bed as the last dose of nicotine wears off quickly, my heart pounding like thunder as the pulse rushes through my head... I am hunting for sleep, and all my thoughts circle around her.

I have murdered her, like many others; I have killed them all by putting down my pen, taking away their immortality which fill papers, but among them all I only yearn for her, her gentle strokes through my hair, the sudden kiss on the cheek while I drive in slight rage, the shy embrace and the sparking eyes reflecting a flame followed by a smoke coming out of a cigarette.

And for the first time ever I wonder if she thinks of me, if she remembers me, does she still have the drawing of herself which I gave her as a gift, maybe it was the only tangible thing I ever gave her, while she gave me nothing tangible but a photograph and box of chocolate which I didn't eat nor enjoy after the day I last saw her, maybe this is why I can never enjoy chocolate anymore.

No chocolate, coffee nor cigarettes can satisfy me anymore, not even dark ones, coffee and chocolate that is, even if light can't escape their surface... Because I have killed her, with my dark heart and my dark chocolate... And for that, here I am not only waiting but hunting for sleep, for peace and for a home.

Reviews

[¿]

Regrets after the misdeeds which are done are redundant at times....but can be a massive punishment or lesson sometimes...At that time anyone's heart might searches for at least one thing that can wipe off his guilt and let him set things better of his past.....but impossible tasks do exist!
I really like your way of intensifying the description of your agony....Many thanks for sharing...Be blessed :)