The door must hold…that order lost him the war. The door indeed held – held while the troops were slaughtered, as they tried to break free.
And as the sun rose, he returned to his empty bed and she walked away from her funeral pyre to return to the light above.
Though they were together, he was thinking of another’s kiss while she was dreaming of the lush, full breasts of her lover.
He saw her and tears rolled down his face. He had helped made this. If nothing else, this would be his legacy – his daughter.
She came into my life when I least expected – so beautiful, so perfect. And then the torture began. Is this what having a muse means?
Starting September, I will be trying to commit more to my blog by following an editorial calendar. This is a part of Blogchatter’s challenge – #MyFriendAlexa – to better your blog’s Alexa Rank by the end of the month by #BetterBlogging.