A life lived.

It was like a sullen awakening to an even dreamier existence. As seemingly happening, as if nothing happened. As if she had never slept. As if, she never stopped speaking. Even though, she pretty much had, but the words that remained absent didn't matter, not anymore. Her silence was welcome, almost a bit too appreciatively.
It was the winter of 92 that bought with it the sudden aroma of pain.
Not much like the restricted movement of the imposed curfew as with the asphyxiation of nothingness. Freedom seemed less important to fret about than the loss of life itself. With days losing themselves in minutes, that seemed to tick as fast as the will to survive, emotions were scattered beings.
It was then that the rules of life were broken and overstepped. As people worried themselves gray over changing dimensions and growing uncertainty, two wild beings overcame the laws of the land.
He and She.
Like two freckles of sand.
As separate as alike.
Sharing dreams, saliva, souls among many other things. Lost in the caricature of hatred their environment had gone on to be.
And as her fingers tastefully decorated his neck, and her tongue searched for those little spaces of pleasure on him, the world was reduced to be an abode to two lovelorn animals. Studying the wild intakes of love. Letting go of the hay from their sweaty backs, and rushing to leave as unassumingly as rushing into each other again.
And passion and love were never different. They came together, holding arms, whispering innocent nothings, and left together in the racing hearts of the two young animals, bonded, by dreams of a tomorrow that weren't tumultuous with hate but with deep rooted hope. Hope, finding it's resurrection in those secretive afternoons and summer hues.
Until man decided to unleash his rules of what is right and what is wrong onto the innocent. Rules of how life must be lived and how not. Of the ones to be loved and the ones not.
And once rules were laid out and enforced, people were separated and murdered.
Not once was a thought spared to the freedom of human mind. Not once to to self-made plans and hopes. And not once to love and its accompanying passion.
And as she sifted into silence, not once was a thought spared to a life lived.