My Ramblings

I always enjoyed the private shows she put. The ones where she sang in solitude. I would hide behind the taupe wall at the entrance so she couldn't see. Its not my fault. She never talked. To me or any other being. Maximum she'd do is smile and nod along in yes or no. But when she sang I swear the nightingales would burst open their hearts just to emulate her. I knew she was a cool person. I have a connection with people, they communicate with me with their eyes. Plus only the good ones can have such blessed voice. I wanted to butt in. But somehow, I gathered myself before I went pricking on. "I have seen you staring at her. This is the third time. I will tell her if you don't stop. You are a lurker, aren't you?", I was flabbergasted by the vocabulary of a ten-year old. I had just been accused of something almost criminal. And, so I needed to snub it away before she shrieked. Guess I was lurking. "No I wasn't. We have known each other for a ...

What of her, a broken one. So her table, pencil and soul. With palpable weary A sprightly turned into a ghost. He never looked back at her, She rose above. May be just She could pen them in words. An anthem for to feel less alone. Pencil pierced sheet and another And thump shuddered roaches from under Still like corpse, she stared down the ground. All I could do was watch from afar. Death is not an embrace of life Unless I be a new start from the cards. But I can't let her choose now Even when she's wise, I know . _________________ Prompt 1: Start with  "If you wanted to set your life on fire there wasn't a better combination". Or Prompt 2: Death's pov