Where is my Heathcliff?
By driftwood
- 1481 reads
He came alive with each drop of ink from Emily’s pen.
Through her words his image formed in my young mind.
Wild, strong and fearless.
Romantic in an anguished, cruel way.
Possessed with his unbridled passion,
the pages hummed in my hands.
His was an all consuming love.
A love that writhes and bleeds.
Blood rushing, gushing highs.
Gut churning, burning lows.
It was all or nothing for Heathcliff,
as it is all or nothing for me now.
My fate sealed long ago…
when this tortured hero stole my heart.
I have known many kinds of love,
but none made my soul ache with want
as it did when I shared my bed with Heathcliff.
His restless spirit alive in my head each night
(Wuthering Heights held fast in my hands),
even as I slept.
He stepped inside my dreams,
and haunted my reality…
until he was the only man I wanted.
Where is my Heathcliff?
My truest love.
I seek him still.
The one meant to walk with me;
realm to realm throughout eternity.
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Comments
I really like this,
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Hi, Miscelanea. I remember
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