Shorty 009...
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
The sentence kept turning inside his head, filling every single corner of his thoughts. The dark room was once again embracing him with her shadow that danced around him, teasing him with her phantom scent.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
Still the phrase was screaming at him, strenously poking him exactly where it hurts and the pain, he knew it, would linger. It would stay there forever, it would not end.
And only her could heal the bleeding wound. The dripping blood that fell into the his personal grail that he would keep deep down inside his heart.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
She was his Beatrice. He would travel the seven circles for her, he would endure every punishment for his sin. The sin of loving her.
The bite of apple that lasted in his throat, choking him slowly, squeezing his life every single day.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
He didn’t know what to do next, he didn’t know how the journey would end.
He didn’t mind.
She was her Beatrice.
His tomorrows started the day she came.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate...
Ma io sempre vado per te, cara...
The sentence kept turning inside his head, filling every single corner of his thoughts. The dark room was once again embracing him with her shadow that danced around him, teasing him with her phantom scent.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
Still the phrase was screaming at him, strenously poking him exactly where it hurts and the pain, he knew it, would linger. It would stay there forever, it would not end.
And only her could heal the bleeding wound. The dripping blood that fell into the his personal grail that he would keep deep down inside his heart.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
She was his Beatrice. He would travel the seven circles for her, he would endure every punishment for his sin. The sin of loving her.
The bite of apple that lasted in his throat, choking him slowly, squeezing his life every single day.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.
He didn’t know what to do next, he didn’t know how the journey would end.
He didn’t mind.
She was her Beatrice.
His tomorrows started the day she came.
Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate...
Ma io sempre vado per te, cara...
posted by rangga @ 3:38 PM
5 Comments:
At 3:38 PM,
ilmaffectional said…
Lama gak mampir kesini.. :)
waduh, bahasa apa lagi ituh.. lo bisa brapa bahasa sih? bahasa tarzan juga bisa ya? heuheuw..
amigos para siempre aja deh.. ;p
At 5:53 PM,
Anonymous said…
wahh... kereenn...
another schizophrenic & depressive writer! nice to read the gloomy aura on your writing. love them all.
but my most favorite is: "he would endure every punishment for his sin. The sin of loving her."
hmm... a masochist lover...
At 7:38 PM,
rangga said…
Hey Ilma... long time no read... hehehe...
Itu adalah apa yang tertulis di pintu neraka di karyanya Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy.
Bahasa Tarzan kurang fasih gua, lebih banyak pake bahasa Asmuni terus terang. hehehe...
Makasih Ita, it is just a phase that I'm going through lately... but you know what, that kind of writing really appeals me somehow...
As for being a masochist, when it comes to THE true love, aren't we all?
At 11:58 AM,
Anonymous said…
As for being a masochist, when it comes to THE true love, aren't we all?
in my case, being a masochist not only for the true love. but everytime im in love. even for the wrong person. silly isn't it?
hmm.. me too. i love to read & write something dark, gloomy, painful, death... u'll see if u read my poems. one of them is a poem about masochist
http://greyskymorning.multiply.com/journal/item/223
*promosi blog* :P
At 3:41 AM,
Anonymous said…
very cool!
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