Prose - Red Sky .and. Vanilla Sleeve – Myth of a Loving Kind

Watching the drizzling day was like a day of a captured flash, with an extrovert of inner spree. I got to whittle every written songs in my friends’ lyrics, full with established connotation, with unsightly legitimacy, more likely are people loathe of ‘around the bushes’. Red seems to be a crimson color that I could define as a limitless ablaze and aflame zeal of one’s heart, it keeps yearning and deepening the sphere of lusty virtue. One day, I got to see her, wearing a vanilla sleeves… heading towards the hall of books mansion, carrying those mind of her. All she wanted is to be free, like I do… Indeed, a short meeting last forever, I hope. She is one of a kind that God grants to be someone, the loving kind I depict, the smart born I delineate. “Nice to meet you”… Indeed was the first word that she has ever said to me after 5 years living in the orb of English studies. The red sky was the name that I gave her, before we were set apart… Not because of the burning ardor that she has brought, but merely the spirit of courage that a woman could ever bring it, in view of my lurid sight, merely is.  She walks through the wind, through the rage that can never hurt her will and hope… that’s even an odd to describe this peculiarity. I remember the story of The Black Cat by Poe, indeed is so spectacular and out of the blue repulsion. Those walls and bricks that ever built in this rash that we have… merely for us two. Well, I could have murdered the intellectualism that she brought along her way to the edge of grandeur. I sigh. Upon the deliverance of a young man who proclaimed to love her as she is, neither promises nor dying words of oath would be kept in the end. I deem, undoubtless. There goes vanilla sleeve, my other shoulder’s hope, one that God grants her to be the goddess of beauty in my voluptuous vista after my God and family. My first word to her sweet bash sight, merely was ‘hi, how are you?”… She brought all the jaw-breaker and becoming one the blue night that my eyes could have ever had. It was once; we lay in the bed together, like a young angel, caught up in each other giggles and smiles. Those hallow moments, pushes me beyond the one and only… sweetest dream in her arms.  She’s the fire while I’m the copse that she could burn anytime… I question it within my solemn bale voice of wondering hearts. She would leave me, one day, not now but anon, in the saccharine dearth.