The Five Thirty PM Story
5:30 PM in the afternoon I heard a noise and went outside to investigate what was going on, finding that a guy was standing there. Watching myself, our home for signs of life, that moment dawned on myself like a weight high as a night sky upon further review came to find that man was a blast from our past. How did he know where to look? Thoughts came to myself like a tornado’s wind whips through cities taking out houses anything which amidst to stand within such a path.
Once he saw such a woman something in his mind snapped like a twig amongst a heavy foot. Our eyes looked, then locked. Once they did he knew what he was thinking, had to do no matter how that thought rang true inside of his head he turned, dipped and wasn’t heard of since a thought so light that not even he could dare quit. Before all was said, done he knew that his heart was hit with a bullet that no man could resist.
Lowering his head he began to sit, think, ponder his deepest, ugliest, wildest beliefs that he held looking into her eyes. Those events to come were to test himself, herself, their world, and life communities were at risk. To no wit, yet a dis so here we go to do what was his ugliest thought of all. Murder, she was so pretty to him that he ponder her life, on his life.
She stopped herself from staring at him and tried not to think of him. That man she saw from a noise. She thought okay he’d go away on his own he doesn’t need me, he’s’ better off without all of that drama in which she brought him he’s such a beautiful soul that I key word here don’t want anyone else to key is here to have him, his soul that was, that was at least to her as square as one could get. Even if she knew that caused him pain.
Well pain is key here. Maybe he knew that after so much hatred of her life, soul began to grow. She knew that secretly he hated her for bringing him not only just harm, or pain, but also misery. Over these years...that murder was so intense of that pain’s child brew cold like coke 45 beer in the alcohol section of the gas station. For what have we now that all’s clear, just a sense of coldness, only because she didn’t know but she began these thoughts so knew what was coming but now was a matter of time.
She turned to go back inside of her house, noticing a cold feeling creep over her frame. Not a door frame but her body became very cold in the chill. There was no warmth there, no love between them only negative, thoughts which felt icy, a cold day which turned tonight when family, friends came to bury their loved ones but no one left a snowstorm barricaded those family members left alive in. Like winter of 78.
Amid a night of fun games no one could leave until their storm passes. She looked at herself, this too shall pass, she died. Cold, bitter, bitingly odd weather, she knew she didn’t deserve her life. To continue to stay alive wasn’t an option she knew that could never, ever look real to live when your life has only caused a cold to settle in over a town.
So she was ready to go, die, get killed, betrayed in a pot of cold. Wet, ice life, that was a beacon of should’s. In the cold. Ice. Wetness. Bitterly, coldly felt feeling’s. That only became thus getting colder to a part where cold is only what’s cold.
In her heart she knew this coldness was something steamed from a lack of self esteem keeping a man that doesn’t want to keep her, not wanting to let go of him since he doesn’t want her which adds to another reason why she’s coldly bitter. No one can like a cold person who lost their way. With self.
Her own worst enemy hates herself, not a man or a female who dares to love him. But yet she can’t let go. Which only makes her colder. Since she knows she’s wrong. So letting go isn’t an opinion because she knows it all, figured all of our world out too. Yet refuse to let go of a man who doesn’t have her emotions but physically he does.
Which is cold because she knows he doesn’t want her. He’s had his eyes on another female, he watches her and she knows that he does really watch her. Actually she quite enjoys that about him. But she’ll probably not ever let him know. If she had her way, they’d go together really.
But then she feels like he needs her to find him, help him to find himself. She felt like doing otherwise would feel curel, since how cold things actually went to him. Which usually gets her heart going. Which no man really is able to do in a romance sense. 5:30 PM turned to 8:30 PM in her world as in no elses around the world.
Something about him drew him to her like a home that he wanted but couldn’t find. She sensed his emotions and looked around but she didn’t see anyone. She sensed his need for her. More than she saw him. Which wasn’t in a sense better yet honest in her power to sense what he’s up to when she knew he’s there but doesn’t in a sense see him, his emotions were felt in her heart that matched his in rhythm upon beat.
He knew that she was home there being at a place where he dreamed of, of a place he longed for, a woman he knew that her home was where her real heart. Lay, yet he laid there not, that home was her’s, her’s alone. No woman could say that without fooling ourselves except for, but her. She knew that was her ideal. He knew that she knew that he was wrong for wanting to change her.
To not accept her as life has done to her. He knew that could never work when he changed he’d know to go to her to let himself find happiness with her. He knew that change had to start within himself first, that mirror will not lie to him, he knew that he knew that. He knew that when he looked long enough he saw himself.
He knew that her love was causing him to feel less cold. Less misery because he really loved her. So he was deserving of his feeling’s of less misery, coldness, pain...how could life ever play him she thought, he was perfect, cute, wonderful in-out, pretty as any man I’ve ever seen, there was no way she thought, she knew that there was no way. That was all that was to that secerio in her own opinion for sure. He knew that that cold would fade away leaving behind nothing but destruction, heartbreak, disease, eivil, rotten meats, foul smells.
Thinking of his handsome self chiseled face that he was, you wonder why women die. Her beauty captivated him, mercilessly, to a point where he felt himself drawn to her. For, from such strength she felt a sense of knowing beauty. To him she knew that he knew that about him. Making him feel colder lying beside a woman who lacked such beauty of thoughts, mind, body, spirit. He knew that he was getting closer to NOT being able to stomach being without her much more, longer inside his mind he knew that even when he appeared not to know.
That was how she came into being, knowing him that he preyed on her, left, right he knew what to do to her, to make her go, to make her love come out. To make her love come out to him, to get her love is one of his all time highs to him at least there is no greater feat. To conquer something that isn’t willingly captured only through much thought of effort is he able to do so.
Which is wild in a sense of field horse running wild with legs kicking forcibly without restraint of thoughts, emotions of her makes him kick even more, harder than before as to get in his way you’re killed. By those legs which hold his power of her love, this power to get to her love, is in those kicks of that horse appears to see many but yet is just one kicking in a field to reach one’s destination, that only he knows. She can guess, fantasize as a means of entertainment art that he is, that those kicks only go a certain way at a certain time. To a certain someone, for a certain length of time, to get what he wants, a woman, a hug, a warmth in blood, bonds when done respectfully so maybe a kick would draw them as enemies they are back to a certain step. Now we’re back to 2:20 PM.
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