Poems About Friend W/background

The Four Seasons of Richard Strauss (1 / 4)

Title: The Four Seasons of Richard Strasse
Author: cuddlymicch
Brief Introduction: Not even two hours before, me and David prayed at the tomb of Edward and joining hands, glad to be back home after years. Then you came along, and I have taken away with you. I saw his body slumped to the ground before he could look at me, I saw him die without a whimper, not seeking my eye, without a fight.
Number Chapters Four
Genre: Romance , sad, melancholic, introspective
Rating: Orange
Warnings: / /
Complete: No

Waltz first - ~ Herbst Automne

I hated that house.
The first time I was there I entered Maria meeting smiling, as if you were asking me to sit in my house. I remember I looked in the mirror of the antechamber and have had trouble recognizing me, pale and trembling, close in my red coat with her hair rolled under a handkerchief. Hands clasped in one another, grabbing the cuffs to control me, but I felt like crying and I could hardly hold back her sobs.
Not even two hours earlier, David and I prayed at the tomb of Edward and joining hands, glad to be back home after year. Then you came along, and I have taken away with you. I saw his body slumped to the ground before he could look at me, I saw him die without a groan, without trying my eye, without a fight.
As we were running away, you've looked at the road all the time. You did not want to see me, you did not want to admit that existed, I was there with you at that time. I had not ever seen, did not know me, but you already knew to hate me.
A Grunewald, all looked at me with suspicion. What was it for them, Mary, for colleagues who were constantly to visit you? What was it for you ? The daughter of French nobility, been brought up by the luxuries and amusements, without prejudices, without rules. And we blame him? I was not that what, after all, but then gave the blame to those walls in which I believed to be trapped.
Living in your home drove me crazy. Without you I could not do anything, not even go out and get some 'air in the courtyard, and I did not do nothing but spend their afternoons in the library to read or Wunderkammer in the company of stuffed birds that had driven.
I hated that feeling of imprisonment, and the blindness that I had learned since David had been killed made me despise anyone who spoke German. Even you, even your best friend, even myself, when I went to open the door to welcome guests.
From the window of your studio saw the leaves dyed the color of blood and fall from the branches of the tree, leaning on the sidewalk. Someone swept off the streets to make them into piles, but immediately jumped on the kids happier than ever, as they ran in order not to be late for school.
I looked at them with disdain, silent and indifferent, without the smile that once lit up my face. Because I thought that smiling did not make sense, now that everything he had fought had slumped on the grave of an old professor reddened the grass of the cemetery.
In my head rang the voice of my promise: "We will stay in Paris forever." I was not able to stay in Paris because I watch that stupid had stuck and, although not to be condemned, I sacrificed my best friend.
I could not forgive myself, and Richard Strauss in the solitude of the pain I ripped the soul and no one could understand my cry for help. I cried alone, hidden behind the doors of the dresser, I shook my head in my hands and I repeated endlessly as I hated that house, how I hated Grunewald, the hated Berlin, because I hated myself.
wanted to help, but I was unable to ask, and no one seemed willing to listen to what I could barely hear.
Autumn was almost over, when you joined you in my room, that time. I I was huddled under the covers.
Neither of us said anything.
sedesti you on the edge of the bed, breathing plan, and I abbracciasti. We stayed like that for minutes, hours, maybe days. In silence, rubbing his face on the deck to dry her tears.
When we came out he had just started to snow.