I was so drunk on you

That I couldn’t see

All the darkened places

You were leading me.

I gave you all the power

You used it against me

A prisoner held hostage

Ignorantly believing, “I’m free.”

Night into days, days into weeks

My drunken bliss began to fade

Senses clearing, but still impaired

I glimpsed reality behind the facade.

Your scent washed over me

Choking me, burning my lungs

Time stopped in your cold blue eyes

A windowless soul forever young.

Your icy voice resonates

Sends shivers down my spine

A love once pure and innocent

Now more demonic than divine

I was so drunk on you

That I couldn’t see

Our addicting love affair

Would lead to the death of me.

I know the song by heart

But I don't know why I listened to it

Over

And 

over

Again

“Is it okay to talk to yourself?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am you.”

My eyes closed & the blackness came; suffocating, leeching its way into my bones. This is Neverland - the place dreams come to die. There was colour here once; before the war, back when people still dreamed. But now... now there's nothing. Sure, we fought the Government. Well, we tried. They were too strong, too sadistic. They made us forget how to dream, stole them & won themselves the war. Bastards.

Yet, there is hope. The Rebels say they've made a drug. If you take it, they say you can dream again. That's where I'm going. I'm going to get my dreams back.

She was beautiful but nobody saw her because she did not want to seen. She hid herself in baggy shirts and unflattering pants that did nothing to show her 'curves' like the girls in the magazines insisted was femininity. She was housed in a tent of concealment, looking through the windows of her eyes, that gave away the peaks of that which she was hiding.

She was beautiful and nobody saw her because she was not bathed in the concealers and contour that the instagram girls mark themselves with to show they are of the species "pretty". She did not show herself in the way people thought confident people should. Her skin was not the capital of her beauty.

Her body was not the capital of her beauty.

She was beautiful but nobody saw her, because she did not compress it into a mold that was shaped by the every shifting society that made perfection and beauty 'impossible'.

But She was Beautiful

©2017 Noklunga Mazibuko

SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT, EVERYONE!!!

Anyways, I have chosen a winner, but first let's read the prompt, shall we?

Tell me six impossible things that you believe in. Share me your list. - https://theprose.com/challenge/5646

I was so shocked that so many entered and gave many fabulous lists to share to the world! 55 entries in total! So much to read so little time!! Anyways, it was fun reading everyone's list, so I'd like to say thank you for participating and how great you all are for making such unique works of art! And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, the winner for this challenge is . . . valossatahi and his/her work "Believe"! It stand out the most to me, and had this alluring charm making me reread over and over again! So congrats, valossatahi! You're our winner! Here's the link to read his/her list!

"Believe" - https://theprose.com/post/166269/believe

Thank you again for participating, everyone, and again I'm so sorry for the late post and making you all wait, I had was a little busy outside the web. I won't be next time! This I swear on my keypad!!! Bye for now, and share and like! XD