little vignette was the result of a challenge, so I had a go and this
was the result. The story had to have the following eight words included.
I think I got 'em all
suppose this could be from 'Though Lovers be Lost', but make of it what
you will. It's rather bitter-sweet, but it all works out right at the
I am he.
am he who loves, treasures, worships all she is and more. She makes
my soul sing, makes my very heart tremble.
am he who fears the darkness that floods my being, the very pit of despair
that sends lust like fire through my veins and drives me to seek the
deep places of the earth, where I can roar my pain in the echoing silence.
am he who sits and listens to her sweet, honeyed voice as she speaks
the written word, the songs of love, the pages of tragic desire and
the hymns of heartbreak
for that is what I hear. No romance,
no truest heart, for my own heart breaks as I breathe the air and sweet
perfume of her presence. She is my joy
and my doom.
am he who sees her pain and holds her heart to mine, and feels her beauty
tremble as she lies against my chest. I feel her very soul ache at the
cruelty of this world, and our Bond is shaken by the sadness in this
jewel I love.
I do love her. My desire transcends all, my love drowns me in the pleasure
of her being, she is all and everything to me. A relationship of bitter-sweet
ecstasy, for I cannot have her for my own. I cannot. I will not.
For she is free, and I
am he who lives in shadows, he who is fated to live and die in candle-glimmer
and lonely echoes. For I know she loves me, but it cannot be
what is this?
has kissed this benighted face, caressed my lips with velvet love and
held my hands. These hands. Her hands, the hands she says could
never leave a mark upon her fair and satin skin. She weeps sweet tears,
and smiles her joy
for I am hers, she says, and holds me in her
am her life. Her cry of pain has brought me from a living death.
will not, let me say goodbye, and holds me to her
breast and calls my name
and kisses me once more.
I am hers.