Tainted

Lips and a******s

                                                                                                    

Dear you,

I’ve come to believe that you are my own personal ghost. You haunt me so effortlessly, almost convincing in your normalcy you walk as a solid spirit. I’m scared that someday I will lose your perfect and spectral image, and see you not as you are meant to be seen, but as you are. Evil words tumbled from your heart-shaped lips, and I believed them all. You had an angel’s purity, even in your most carnal moments, and the cleanliness of your sins continue to mock me. The fluffy whiteness of your innocence was dripping with blood, but I pretended not to see. These thoughts are half-formed half-truths, perhaps created in my own mind that I might hate you fully. However, I wish to see your wings again, to view you as perfection when in reality you are hideous- even more ugly because you left. I lost you- in losing you, I lost my self-control. I spiral in every direction, trying desperately to find a place of comfort. In all my heavenly and hateful thoughts of you, however, I realize that you, yourself, are not amazing. My memories of you are. I wish that they were real...even as I wish, I know that only when I can stop thinking of you will you return to your grave. But your pallid face and carefree demeanor continue to appear in my mind. And thus, you stalk me. Until I can forget you (never replace, for I’ve done that a thousand times over and still you’re here), your ghostly whiteness will follow me, shambling along as I decay.

Reviews

[Katy Otto]

This is a very strong piece,
It has a certian unique rhythm to it.
Great job on the literary devices.

[The Scanners See Sound]

This seems more prose, or poetry than a story. If it really is a story, then it's actually pretty poorly written considering the basic elements of storytelling are more or less nonexistent.

However if interpreted as a form of prose, or antipoetry, then it's not bad.