Her chamber is locked


She looks at him with warmth

He’s so lost in what has been, in all those “what ifs”

He doesn’t seem to be very awake even though is clear daylight

His mind wonders but the touch of her hand awakens him

“Can this be true” he whispers to himself terrified

“Where is she?” He asks her in disbelief

“She’s there” she says, calmly pointing to his chest

And then her being covers his eyes

His mouth is full of her faith

His hands are digging her flesh

“Go away you sorcerer of grief” he nearly screams…


Wrote this in 5 minutes. It’s what may seem a sequel of “The right ventricle”. Somebody told me it should continue… I tried. This is what came up in a very brief and undisciplined attempt…

It’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

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