Promises Made

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I release you. You are set free. I held your hand in a faded daydream. I scorched the ground and squared up to the cinder. The pictures of illusory scenes. They are nothing but ashes, burnt like the umber of your long lost eyes.

There were promises made. Chalk on the blackboard. Smudges enlightening us of better days. Tremors beckon as we sat to dine but we never agreed on what to say. I left you to the red dress and the dashed image and my failure ignited for a decade.

Nothing made of the effort, as the stars fell around us. You picked up a gun stuck on safety and I was the isolated bullet. The courage imbued in the initial fire extinguished in a mirage and the small comforts amounted to a summit. The glistening smiles and the escapades.

I broke the glass and the light fractured, the soft embrace turned to madness. I told you it was the expectant flash and you were blinded. I said it all a thousand times and stopped, dead in my tracks, as the sun wouldn’t rise.

So I tried yet again. I laboured and I failed, and I turned myself inside and out.

I bore the brunt of the fall.

I folded my cards as my knees wore out.

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