The day one widow. A short story book that also contain 22 poems. Here’s the first chapter

‬The sun glint upon the world, for the new day, has begun. The birds give pleasure with the tune and all their lyrics are nothing but caress. Caress that frees my soul to dominate my fears and doubts. The glass wings glowing like the star cluster, tossing up and down serving the world with beauty fragrance of peace and romance. What a beautiful Sabbath, this is Godly I whisper to myself. Staring through the window from the second floor. This humid air feels real enough, “no Mel get back inside and face yourself.” Thoughts of the demon within. I close the window and curtain behind me. Back to an empty dark room, glowing sparks from the morning star through the curtains. Full of pettiness and bitterness drove by anger and sadness. The chores from the broom are the only matter of silence. I hibernate within the doors but so rowdy is the race of my thoughts with the racing broom sound. I feel the clench of tears to the wedding gown, so loud within the silence of the broom. I lay myself onto the female monarch bed. The thoughts of yesterday than tomorrow are my only foes and tears are the only language I understand. I can’t find wisdom. I feel the sounds of the blood within my brains boom! boom! conquering his body, it bleeds my soul. Quickly get up to the mirror, trying to fix my hair and clearing the scars of the melting make up. Fading into my back I see him, speaking like yesterday has never existed with his voice of the voiceless. Standing behind me, I know he got my back. Dallying his head on my neck boiling water to evaporate. I feel his slothful movement from the ear-back down the spinal canal. My nipples mist up so aggressively with no touch. Rough touching my hand and sweating simultaneously, pulling me back to into him. I feel his hand along my thighs tempting my soul. I feel water flashed, so wet and wild. My lips swearing Shakespeare lines and hardly breathing. His bite to my ear separates my body and soul. So cold and digestive are his hands around me. Through my lingerie, his hand is my comfort. I can’t ask for anything more. Partially I feel his presence fading off me as I turn around. Only to realize it’s all just a hopeless dream. God damn!!!. I turn back to the mirror is just me. Looking so abloom of tears, bruised and sore eyes from drops of saline. The image of an ‘angel’, the sophistication of a maltreated woman. The sound from the broom fades with my fantasy and silence earned me. Clenching my inner most and melting the makeup with the mist of tears. Staring myself in the mirror.
“This woman have seen it and done it all. The pain rains through her tears. Oh! The good God, can you hear me. Hear me out. I’m out of time and love. I’m out of sublimity, griefs the nature of adulation. I was never antagonism but I feel I’m the black beast to devotion. I don’t deserve these shaking days full of wind and storms. Can I at least bury myself? Can I? I’ve never seen my life for a moment. I’ve never found sorrows shining this beauty.” a word to myself while rubbing off scars of tears messing up my beauty.
Deep down I’m starting to wonder if ever I will heal. Starting to wish heaven had taken Steve Jobs with his iPhone, all my tears will be yesterday in a minute of texting. In our texts I had always found my smile all the times when I’m down and the weight of the earth is all on me. I’m never clockwise but I found myself asleep in the comfort of my dolor. So costly is the peace within the suspension of consciousness, the shelter of no worry. The odor of my wounds hit me up at 2 am. The right time he use to tell me it’s dedicated to the handicrafts and those who can see the future before anyone experience it, the visionaries. Well, he’s the only demon competing with the hooting of the owls in my head.
“I can’t stop going through the last, memories don’t just go away like people. The least I’m left with are photographs on the wall. They are haunting me with their portray of our smiles, I need a touch full of superpowers. I need a hug, I’m so hungry, I want to feel alive. If only I can get him right next to me so I can be fed,” I thought.
“Oh! Honey, I’m horny. You gave me love than life and now I’m melting to our memories.”
I just wish he can hear. He uses to kiss me like how I’m melting ice, so gracious my lips were sealed. I then thought to myself,
”I need his love more than I want God or do I just need prayers than I lust him.”
Rough to admit heaven don’t really matter to how I feel about him. God takes the good once early, I believe I sinned better with love than to life. So the silence continues to play with my imagination until I softly close my eyes to sleep but I can’t close my brain. All I see is him, my heavenly mate. The soul of courage and wisdom. The peaceful one full of love embracing kindness. So heartily he has put a rock on me. So innocently to be gunned down. My biggest prayer is forgiveness upon his soul above. My hands are dirty of his blood and dedication. My eyes turn up, looking at my hands and quickly turn up to the Lord. Falling low on my knees and voices whispering throughout my head…

‪#‎TheDayOneWidowBook contains 22 poems extra
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