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Pain part 3

A poetic tale

By Kevin KlabonPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
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Pain part 3
Photo by lucas clarysse on Unsplash

Ever so slowly, this shadow of a creature pulls itself ahead, veins in its hands popping and muscles groaning as it inches closer.

I'm neither startled nor am I scared by the sights I soon see. Laying on the floor just a few feet from me is a woman. Her cinnamon hair splayed about her like a Chinese fan. Her body is bare, and it glistens with sweat; her lungs pump like a billow, breathing this dangerous air.

My words barely above a whisper I speak, "You are Love, why have you come here?"

"To be with you, of course," she whimpers as she gently draws back her hair.

"I am no longer in need of your services, Love. I have found someone not altogether new, and it is They who give me exactly what I need."

"I know your heart, and I know your mind," Loves breathes, "You can't fool me. Pain is only temporary and lives but a short time. Give me a chance. You can trust in me; I will not fail you. Love is all you need."

Love then climbs to her knees; she reaches out and gently brushes a hand across my knee.

Startled by the sudden affection, I jump back a step. Love's touch burns like sin, and it lingers like a kiss. Thousands of emotions begin to take hold, and in my mind, memories swim to the surface.

"You Lie!" I scream, "You are worse than the worst of my enemies. You always come to me full of promises, but your words are empty, satiated with lies. Your promiscuous lips speak colorful words, but in the end, I see you for what you are, a facade, slowly molding me into your slave. I won't let you in this time; never again will I allow you to commit your terrible crimes."

To this, Love says nothing. Instead, she lays back and opens her legs, exposing all for me to see. My heart starts pounding in my chest, and my palms begin to sweat. She is all and everything that I need.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Kevin Klabon

I am an artist, a musician, an author, a poet, a magician of the written word.

I live no life without pen and paper, or a paintbrush in hand.

If you could share your love for what I love, I would love you to the moon.

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