http://th-rough.eu/taxonomy/term/207/0 en http://th-rough.eu/writers/tragicoptimist-eng/bleached-bones <span class='print-link'></span><p class="rtejustify"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; ">he died on tuesday. sick in the head. while he sighed, murmuring lies to the priest that preached, while prevaricating. while his sweat slid salty, clothes soaked with the life him leaving.</span></p> <p class="p4 rtejustify"> send him away and the priest ceases. close the door and she stoops. holding his left hand hard. holding back, his hair grey. in the darkness of a silence. only two consumed candles, scarcely illuminating. his spent gaze. and hard white sheets of marble.</p> <p class="p4 rtejustify"> my love, i leave. trapped here inside, i die with his body. you must me forgive, i not able. to live this life until the end. to do after all that infinite fatigue of. returning what i receive : everything.</p> <p><a href="http://th-rough.eu/writers/tragicoptimist-eng/bleached-bones" target="_blank">read more</a></p> tragicoptimist-eng death dissection fiction flesh multitudes English Sat, 23 Jul 2011 18:21:17 +0000 tragicoptimist 193 at http://th-rough.eu