myhowlofthenight

My pen is like my heart onto paper,                               my pen captures my soul like a camera,                     with every word it captures my thoughts,                   my thoughts dance like ballerinas,                             on a paper stage,                                                             the stage of thoughts help me to avoid insanity,                                                         my insanity is erased by my pen my pen has the ability to stop the seas, and helps my spirit remain free.

"Simon….Simon… did you hear anything that I asked you," said my assistant Mrs.  Madison. "No Isabelle I didn't hear you. What is it?" responding in a rash tone at the hallway were my assistant stood. "Simon I was just wondering are we still on for our date tonight," she said sounding a bit frightened, "I know that your wife died but are we still going to be together right?" My wife, could I have called her that, she was merely just a maid, cook, and object to ease certain urges. "Yeah I will meet you at the usual restaurant at 7 o'clock," I said to her quietly and trying to avoid the gazing eyes. Everyone in this office knew of my affairs and

hat night after the coroners took her away I was left with a headache not only from my hangover but from the sites and words that I had heard only four hours ago. Her eyes and her trembling hands were still a vivid picture in my memory. What had I done to make her do such a thing? As my mind asked me these questions I knew the answer automatically; it was me, I made her take that knife and slash herself. I took the life of the one that meant something to me and I never showed it in a way for her to know.  Many nights have gone by and it was the day to put her body to rest. Ember was catholic and she wasn't given the full burial due to her arr