Prose.

Good morrow!
I had to write a prose for Poetry class that I shared with the class today. It's nice, because prose (at least the way the prof. makes us do it) is just like my blog entries, but a little more poetic! So it was pretty easy and fun. It was technically my first time doing this, because obviously the blogs don't count. So here it is:

    It won’t come to fruition. Intuition tells him something’s missing, but she’s Heaven-sent. And his poor heart is heavy-set. It wasn’t always so, but love clots fill his being ‘cause he’s worried. The crimson blood can’t pump because he’s broken. And so it sits there, filling up his center. His heart expands just like a lung that’s filled with water and can’t breathe without injecting poison that would otherwise be life-sustaining, but it kills him now. But he’s never been more alive, feeling the pain, waiting for the burst. That fatal bubble grows as more love tries to flow. The love just doesn’t want to leave him…

    And that is his dilemma, as he tries to fix her and his arteries. As if they both were one inside of him. He’s blue beneath the skin but never redder underneath it. She knows this. She can feel every pain that he feels. She is pain – at least to him. And yet she’s just the opposite. She was the twilight that showered him with loveliness just before dusk. The smell before the sunset breeze; she taught him how to breathe! Taught his heart to pump so well. Professionally. He pounded out her rhythm, just the way she showed him. Now she chokes him. But the worst is, she didn’t know it, and she won’t leave. She just doesn’t want to leave him…