Rabu, 07 Desember 2011

deeppurple

@clovique

Deep purple is the color of an old spinster whom is always smelled of rose powder and cold as pearl necklace that is long and strangling the wrinkled neck. Yet, also an old widow’s lace dress’ who crouched into the corner of your attic, turning into a spider that is a mighty succubus.

Miss Havisham. With the old wedding dress. The veil that hid that sickly smeared rose lipstick all over her thin mouth.

Fully aware of being awfully romantic and cursed love all her life after being left at the altar. One must not love. One’s heart must stay frozen. Tightly closed and locked. Throw away the key.

A vampire.

Afraid of sunrise and the clock striking the hour.

Sucking on others’ lives.

Too bad she didn’t know. There’s nothing so bad a plateful of hot indomie goreng can’t fix.

Esmeralda.

Pip.

Nothing so grave and crazy like love. You run after it all your life and find it standing at the beach looking far into the horizon and setting sun holding the hand of your little son.

Love between Catherine and Heathcliff that haunts even longer than life could hold them from staying.

*

She put down her violin and began to really look outside. She always wanted to fly out of here. From the tower her mother created for her. They’re always together yet she managed to keep a distance between them, somehow. She caressed her silver hair and walked across her room to sit on an old rocking chair, where her mama rocked her when she was still tiny to sleep in her lap. As this chair aged through time, she came to term with the fact that she’d never do that to her own baby. She would stay here for always. Famish.

For always acting out a role she despised.

For every reason thinkable of why she couldn’t be her own self.

She even lost her shadow a long time ago. A result of her cowardice.




*pr nulis cerita dari lagu instrumental the day of the river (spirited away)

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