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Onxy Angel part 1The onyx angel sat with her head on her knees, hiding her face from the barren winter's snow. Her long, midnight hair cascaded down her back as her wings sat, crumpled and broken against her pale frame.
Tristan sat up straight in bed. Sweat poured down his chest and his forehead. His black hair was ruffled and hung in his face. He took a deep breath and then shifted his eyes to his clock. 2:16 on a Friday morning. He sighed and then leaned against the wall. Glancing out his window, he noticed something unusual. Cars parked in the driveway next door. Great neighbors, he thought. I was quite alright with being the only family on the street. He looked out the window a bit long before he noticed something else. Soft lights flickering in the room which he presumed to be the attic. Candles.
After trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep, Tristan decided to go on a walk. He threw on a sweatshirt and went downstairs quietly, as to not wake his mom. He grabbed his iPod off the table and left.
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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