The price of being a gypsy woman comes at a high cost. She is the embodiment of a free spirit; restlessness is her middle name, and her last is freedom. As soon as contentment stroke her soul, the embers began to steer her in a new direction. If she was to ignore their powerful pings at her heart; surely those embers would blaze her passions into a raging inferno.
Licking at her curiousity of what could be just around the bend. The price of being a gypsy woman came at a high cost. She could not bring along those she loved for they had their hearts set on contentment. Maybe they had their own paths to travel, yet she couldn’t help but feel the loss of love found in their meetings. She wished to have them all alongside of her living free embarking on a journey of abandonment.
There, in the open meadow she lied. The sun gleamed off of her skin, and warmed her instead of a friend. A gust of wind aroused; wheatgrass met her legs, tickling her, as she grinned. She would never truly be alone for she was in the hearts of those she met along her way. She would carry a piece of those she encountered into old age. There, they could live forever together in each others hearts and this brought her peace.
Here she was, in a new place, traveling down an unfamiliar road with different enchantments, new faces, new feelings, and new hopes.
Yes, there it is again. That feeling of falling down a portal of bliss. Those childlike wide-eyed and all-accepting pupils gazed around at everything, it was ever so pristine, everything was shining with potential. She knew the feeling from which it came, she was falling madly deeply in love with everything.
But, the price of being a gypsy woman comes at a high cost. The thought danced across her mind, And for a moment the music stopped. Ever so optimistic and hopeful she dismissed it as quickly as it came. Now, it was time to dance with the faeries, mythical beings, and be apart of the magickal pristine journey she just started to embark down. Leaving the worries of what may be at stake for a tomorrow that might or might not come.
I was dancing merrily in a meadow to the beat of my own drum. Suddenly, a man approached, he rounded a tree and told me that I must stop dancing. “No!” I declared. He replied, “you’ll regret this soon enough!” I went away from him continuously dancing. He grabbed his gun from his waist, lined up the barrel taret locked, clinched his eye and then he shot half of my face off. I immediately fell to the ground in painful wonderment.
I laid there weeping, I noticed he was approaching me. He knelt down on one knee; swept my hair away from the remaining side of my face, with his lips barely touching my ear and said “please forgive me, beautiful. You must do what I say, you’re mine”.
Like a volcano I was ready to explode, Destroying everything around me without remorse or bias. I was naturally inclined to set bridges on fire so their was no way to return. Places that were once reminiscent of towns and valleys now lay in decrepit. There in the pathways were bodies turned to ash and dust.
There was nothing that could be forgiven, This was natural; it would follow due course. After the explosion of molten lava, everything laying to waste, everything would eventually cool down and transform the landscape. The wild ways of the earth would replant the seed and eventually things would grow.
Once where their was beauty taken for granted, their would be hope for anew. Where they had pulled at the strings until their were none, trying to sway the very essence of time itself, their would be a wild flower growing from a crack in the molten lava.
A friend of mine recently said “to love is be vulnerable”. I really liked that but to be honest with myself, I believe true love is safe. Someone who truly loves you will not play upon your insecurities; they will never cast you in doubt, they will never make you guess where their intent lies.
Sure, things might become tough, things might become hard. However, if they truly love you than they will never leave you guessing. They will recognize what you have to offer and fear to lose it. Not because they are afraid to be alone or because they need to suffice loneliness, but because they realize what your essence brings to their life.
True love conquers all battles that try to divide it. Whether it is physical or emotional, people who truly love each other face these things together. No matter the cost.
I pushed you away subconsciously. Amplified everything that could ever get you in a frenzy, this is me. Everything, why? I don’t know. I guess I want to show you the worst of me. To see if you could love me on my bad days. To see if you could really appreciate my all. It’s probably not a good strategy. It probably wouldn’t ever work but to be loved is to be vulnerable.
I felt the change in you.. I couldn’t take it. The perspective got a little bleak and so I became a little needy. I hated that. I really don’t like to need anyone. But I wanted you. I wanted you forever in a moment. Maybe for eternity. I guess that’s the life of a heart broken romantic.
They tell me I have to be dainty, that I should resemble a saint. Tell me to keep my opinions to myself, to be tactful and quaint. How could I ever be myself if I cannot be on fire? I’m passionate about which that I desire.