A WEAK SLAVE
I had to store her in my memory, to cling to every bit of beauty her form contained.
"I wish I could take you with me." This was the child in me, saying things that reflected the silly sincerity of the heart.
But she placed a firm hand on my chest. "But you are taking me with you, Rory. Wherever you go, I will never cease to be a part of who you are."
She pulled me close and embraced me. I drank in her scent, sweet lemon verbena and jasmine married with something astral.
"In death, we only part from our physical forms. Our souls remain, protecting those we leave behind. So, I will be bound to you, in this life, the next, and the next."
Bab Populer