Musings of a Broken Soul. by e-mpathetic, literature
Literature
Musings of a Broken Soul.
It was a breathtaking winter's evening when you returned to me, painting the frigid air with silver smoke as you exhaled deeply into the cold, dark night. I could recall our last moments with great clarity, and still I felt no fear as you drew near. You were here for a reason, one that we both understood perhaps too well.
Unfinished business.
An unwritten ending.
A poem that was meant to continue on, its alliteration flawed and twisted and in need of correcting.
Only we could rewrite our story, Hannibal; only we could heal its blood-soaked pages and broken spine.
"You came back."
"I never left you, Will."
Your piercing gaze seemed to hold a
"I'd like you to draw a clock face. Numbered. Small hand indicating the hour, large hand at the minute. I want you to focus on the present moment, the now, often as you can, think of where you are, and when...think of who you are."
/tony is out of his ward for a bit /he decided there was no need to stay today /the teachers would be fine without his leadership /he hoped /oh well /his priority was to spend just the right amount of time looking for another watch for his collection /it always struck the others as odd that this matter of time that resembled a clock to a degree... /would bother to collect clocks /but he did, it was one of his few actual hobbies