The hopeless & the dying

Along the road of life, in the alleyway of despair, beneath the street light of hope, through the fumes of cynicism, on the curb of faith... she lies there breathing heavily.

Normally, I would jump to her aid; yet, I find myself immobile - still. In these eternal seconds, I ponder what to do. Before you judge my moral compass, let me describe her for you:

She is as paradoxical as a dog with a straight tail, as elusive as smoke. Her lure is overwhelming. Her pain is charming. Her presence is invigorating. Her loss is excruciating. She is as demanding as her believers, with no sure promise in return. Was there ever a more irresistible combination? I want her in my life though she has done nothing but disappoint, time & time again. Emotions are her elixir & logic is her poison - I have dared not provide a sufficient dosage of either.


She is no woman; she's definitely not a man. She is romance, and she is dying right before the eyes of my heart. Should I administer my mouth to hers & revive her? Should I willfully give her the power to torment me & the few others left who still believe in her? Or should I extend the palm of my hand to her face, silence those breaths & rid myself of her delicious misery?

I take a step towards her...