She
knows their worlds are far apart. But she still has hopes not in the reality
but only in the dimension beyond space and time. She dwells in consciousness and
unconsciousness. She has two sides – the one is real and the other is extreme.
Her extreme bonded with his extreme and they became one. They felt one. It was not
a feeling, not a thought, not an expression but a realization. They were in
now. She doesn’t expect her king to go beyond his walls because she can’t run
away from hers. She is trapped yet free and so is he. She wants to keep him
alive and with her just like this – just in her stories. After all, that is
what she always was, is and will be – a story teller. She met her other half
who completed her story. Insanity met the hungry fool. He said, “Maybe that is
how stories are written”. Losing was easy with him – losing herself. How much
she longed for such a loss in order to feel her real self. The king wished to
whisper in her ears, “I love you.”
Pin on one side. Pain on the other end. Bleed. Not blood but emotions. Long deep layers. Fewer words. Hidden truths. The closer, the farther. Because twisted universes. As the pain will transfer. Curves are good. Circles. Spheres. Semi-circles. All sorts. Human eye likes them. The spheres they are of course. Karma. Life. But reality has lines. The flatness. The ends. Infinite ends but ends. Voids are circles too. Or are they? Probably not. They are nothing. Nothingness is better. Feels nothing. There is nothing. Just like deep dark webs there are deep dark sides. Much more hidden, much more inaccessible. Hope, you say. Hope is light. But now even black holes exist. ~Fin.

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