The Life Span of Narcissistic Pleasures
The Life Span Of Narcissistic Pleasures
Tongue tied lies that broke as easily as my timber skeleton, bone by bone as I poured my heart out over oceans of sheets, deep crushed satin. Nothing was returned for I did not hold your smiles and I was not the flavour of your mouth. Shielded behind false pretences you basked in the radiant glow of my affect yet slipped coolly from one kingdom to the next. No longer dropping beats in my spine and repulsed by my stilled silhouette you flew into ghostly night skies where no moon dared to hang, disappearing forever in a swirled plum of darkened clouds.
I was no match for the wit of an articulate soul.
The band disbanded on your very command amongst a spatial of bullets with added venom mixed in for good measure.
The winds of change swept us in different directs.
My feet became rooted in streets I had walked centuries ago, familiar yet different, home was no longer in this ghost town. This polluted air was all I knew, memorise shone from distasteful allies, your long forgotten presents hugging my lungs. Erratic, I tired to carve a false idle of your narcissistic posture.
Failure was always my vice.
Until one day fate intertwined us once more, a thin band of leafed gold suffocating an ivory key. Years older yet none the wiser I told you of great feats, tales of loss and sorrow, abandonment and betrayal. And all you could do was kick wholes in the street for you were love sick and I, forlorn. Melancholy was not your friend but mine as you wished me well on my way and utter broken words that echoed the past.
Who knew this black parade would come? Many a time we had passed the violet burning mist, never quite knowing who would pay the price.
The heart beats heavier with the drag of soil and pine.
Decaying memorise are all that safeguard me to sleep, longing pulls at my intestines and your name like a hex on my tongue, as old cobwebbed reels of home movies play over in front of my eye.
The promise of one day still leaks from your shattered glass photo frame.
I was no match for the wit of an articulate soul.
The band disbanded on your very command amongst a spatial of bullets with added venom mixed in for good measure.
The winds of change swept us in different directs.
My feet became rooted in streets I had walked centuries ago, familiar yet different, home was no longer in this ghost town. This polluted air was all I knew, memorise shone from distasteful allies, your long forgotten presents hugging my lungs. Erratic, I tired to carve a false idle of your narcissistic posture.
Failure was always my vice.
Until one day fate intertwined us once more, a thin band of leafed gold suffocating an ivory key. Years older yet none the wiser I told you of great feats, tales of loss and sorrow, abandonment and betrayal. And all you could do was kick wholes in the street for you were love sick and I, forlorn. Melancholy was not your friend but mine as you wished me well on my way and utter broken words that echoed the past.
Who knew this black parade would come? Many a time we had passed the violet burning mist, never quite knowing who would pay the price.
The heart beats heavier with the drag of soil and pine.
Decaying memorise are all that safeguard me to sleep, longing pulls at my intestines and your name like a hex on my tongue, as old cobwebbed reels of home movies play over in front of my eye.
The promise of one day still leaks from your shattered glass photo frame.
♠ ♠ ♠
This story is in Franks POV, he and Gerard are lovers till Gerard finds Lyn-Z. After which the band brakes down and the boys go their separate ways. Frank ends up back in Jersey where he goes through many different relationships, in all of them he is trying to find a substitute for Gerard. Frank then meets Gerard in Jersey years later. Frank confesses all to Gerard but Gerard doesn't want to know as he is happy within his own world and doesn't want Frank to be a part of his life any more. Some more years later Gerard dies of lung cancer due to smoking and Frank is left with the realisation that the love of his life is dead and he has been left with little more than broken promises.