Eurielle
A dystopic image of the world post-disaster courtesy of Mr FijiWiji When heavens came calling, she left me drowning inside the depth of her wandering eyes. And like my last hope, I have been clinging to the end, to the beginning of the end, my end. The beauty with bewitching eyes once waltzed into my sight and held me in a trance that I have never been able to extricate myself from. I know that it is poison, that she is poison, but I cannot rid myself of her. It is almost as if she has me by a rope that she can tug as I float in space, between sanity and insanity, between the end and the beginning. All she has to do is tug and stop my free fall but she keeps extending the ropes. Eurielle, Eurielle! I weep, but the echo of my voice mocks back from the darkness. This is not a play. This is not the stage. This is the end. The sky is falling to pieces around me. I have lived a lie. I have loved a lie. Looking up from my drug-induced craze, I meet soft blue eyes that