Nobody knows . . . nobody sees . . . nobody knows but me.
Ten years ago, I saw her for the first time. She was tall . . . she was the most beautiful thing I have even seen. She was blond. She was all female. She was to be my destruction.
I loved every minute of her.
Her name was Molly.
She took my soul.
She took my body.
Nobody knows.
Nobody knows but me.
How she made me feel.
She brought things out of me.
She made my chest … my inner self
Feel so warm.
I loved her.
She was my life.
Nobody knows but me …
Nobody knows but me ….
why I had to kill her
Nobody knows but me.
She took up with another
She left me
When I asked her to come back to me
She laughed
At me
Now she is dead
And I miss her so much
Nobody knows
Nobody knows but me
Where her body is buried
Nobody knows
How I cry over her grave.
Nobody knows.
Reblogged this on Stories from greeneyes and commented:
He sat there with his beer and whiskey chaser in front of him. He had been drinking since 9a.m and bar for the odd doze on the counter he was still drinking at 5p.m The bartender knew Bill very well and went easy on him, after all he was one of their best customers. Bill stirred from his drunken stupor and reached for his whiskey, no whiskey! Bill opened his eyes to find this beautiful woman standing beside him with his drink in her hand. “Don’t you think you have had enough to drink today?, come lets go and have something to eat, I could do with the company of a handsome man”. Bill looked into her beautiful gentle eyes and her long blonde hair, he believed there and then he had died and gone to Heaven. Who are you? why do you want to feed me, I don’t know you, do I? Oh you know me alright you just to drunk to remember. Come, let me help you off that stool and into an easy chair. The pretty blonde lady ordered a steak with all the trimmings for Bill and she ordered a coffee for herself. The bartender said,
coming right up Mam!
Bill couldn’t help wondering who and why was this beautiful woman taking care of him and then it came to him, he held his head upright and looked at her beautiful face once again, he
was looking into the eyes of Jane, a younger version but they were Jane’s eyes nonetheless. What is your name he repeated in a slurred tone? I am Jane’s daughter……………..
This is embarrassing, when your story came up on my blog (thats how I follow your work,( other than you telling me) it shows the word re-blog and naturally I assumed it was word.press way of inviting people to write a further story re man and woman etc. what I didn’t realize was that it went here on your page under comments, I thought it would remain on my blog and you would be notified as usual. Sorry friend, me thinks I need a “white cane” around this site lol. Colette