harold hart
Stories (3/0)
Completed Portrait
I guess, Whenever I met someone, and they seem to really like me. They always find another girl with better qualities She said as she pondered about her past. Would one compare someone to a bucket of paint that drips off a cliff, individuals may not like where it lands but others find the beauty in the little droplets. Droplets of paint and different colors representing personality traits. Sensitivity, anxiety, depression, well, I feel as though I’ve landed safely in the hands of a man whose corrosion around me is something I’ve never felt before. He doesn’t just accept my droplets that fall from the paint bucket over a cliff, but he soaks up all the colors and paints a beautiful photo on a blank campus. While the other wanted me to keep my colors dimmed and weak. He was infatuated with them even at their very peak. This man never critiques who I am or what passions were, For he as always stood by me and supported me in the things I’ve wanted to endure As she painted a photo of her beloved she created a smile along the portrait of the man who loves her, A smile brighter than the sun, with hair the color of chocolate and golden brown eyes that some may compare to gold in a mine. A moonlight background that resembled the bright future they share, so there they stood holding each other close as the midnight air touched their angelic flesh. He kissed me as we knew the night came to a rest.
By harold hart7 years ago in Poets
Born to Die
The lights in the city began to set to a dim glow, as though they were the eyes of God beginning to close after the long day of watching over civilians in the city of New York. It was as though the night was a symbolization of the last visitation. That night was the end of the relationship of a woman, a beautiful woman, named Candice. The only way I could describe her complexion as a woman that men would best describe as beautiful and extravagant, with hair that reached an exquisite length, passed her shoulders, with a tone of Autumn and eyes that are like a brown pool of melted chocolate that twinkle in the sun and moonlight. Candice always wore amazing white dresses that represented her purity and class, as well as her bright white smile. She’s beautiful, and unfortunately, I had to leave her on the day of February that resembles intimacy and affection between passionate couples and married individuals. It was valentine's day, and due to the circumstances of my career life stood in the way of our burning love and devotion; I had to leave her. Our love was like butterflies crawling against the skin every single time our lips touched. That day, as I broke it to her, she took it as a kiss that impaled her heart with a look of shocked melancholy. She gazed at me with such confusion, and despair. She barely was able to stutter the words the words, “Steve, you’re leaving me on Valentine's day?”
By harold hart7 years ago in Horror