Bittersweet Symphony

Bittersweet Symphony

Not even the streams of time can capture and keep me captive here. I will not be held hostage while an emergency is in state.

Those were the words you once told him. The words that once held true while you touched and played with his soft, unruly hair; strands of wheat between your fingers. You held him in your arms, he feeling more delicate than you could ever imagine. His liquid jade eyes captured yours, specks of malachite sinking your stone heart. All along, you had lied to him and cursed upon his grave-like stature. You scowled in contempt at his loving ways, his gentle touch and feathery voice. Every night when he brushed your raw-sienna tresses, when he bound you to him with soft, rosemary lips; you were just playing him like a game. Your honey eyes told him yes, while your cruel, loathesome mind said no.

Promise me you won't leave my side, his words came to you in a whisper. That ebony night stole his loving gaze, turning emerald to a smoldering hunter green full of curiosity and distrust. Your golden orbs narrowed at his new disguise, and you disdainfully denied his request. With words of hatred and a tone of regret, you told him: I will not promise you anything, for promises are meant to be kept forever and forever is just too long. I will leave your side, cruelly, and never come back to you. You have been excessively clingy and feeble. I wish not for a lover of that nature, and you shall not have my love. You tore apart his amorous heart. His eyes lacked to a fading slate-green, all emotion leaving them slowly. You turned and slid out an ivory revolver, spinning the barrel soundlessly. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins and your tawny locks spread from your face in a quick, gentle breeze. The icy night called out to your hatred, bringing the darkness forth in your features. His gliding footsteps led him backwards against an old tree. His last words came in a fast-paced breath:
Not even the streams of time can capture and keep me captive here. I will not be held hostage while an emergency is in state. You may bound me here to the land, but my soul shall not cease to burn on through this fire-tipped life. I will not wish you ill, though, he paused and caught a piece of your honey-brown hair in his pale fingers, causing you to jump and smack his hand away, leaving a scarlet tint to his knuckles. You cocked the weapon, held it to his azure-clothed chest and glared at him in fury through liquid topaz. His gentle, swift voice cut the air smoothly as the suns first rays lit the ashen sky:

For cursing someone with ill words is not a very considerate thing to do. Instead, I bid you farewell, and ask that you will find a man worthy of your love. You may have lied to me, betrayed me and more... but you, I find, are impossible to hate. May the moon light your path, dear one, the stars ail you through the nights, and the One Above watch over you.

You snarled at his calm voice, ocean waves spilling over you in gentle kindness. The wind rippled your deep violet gown in your pause, the nectar scent of your soon to be dead lover's cologne crashing down upon you. A single shot rang out, followed by a bittersweet scream in a symphonic tone in the rising suns glory. Death lay haematic against the beautiful strands of wheat, tangerine, cherry and lemon. His emerald eyes that once were pools of velvety ardor now turn to a faded sidewalk. His tousled blond hair lay around his face neatly; like it always did. His lips were slightly open, his ivory teeth partially exposed. Almost a foot lower, crimson liquid turned his midnight blue t-shirt to a blackened bruise. You smirked and dropped the revolver, watching it glint an opaque grey-gold in the sunlight. As you turned, you felt a chill crawl down your spine, but ignored it in your foolishness and continued to walk on. That sneer on your face never once left as you trailed home, but an emptiness in your iron cage of a heart stayed as well.
"Bittersweet Symphony"- Taylor Bohlen.