GILBERTO EXPOSES HIS WOMAN

PRESTON:


Gilberto finally exposes  his woman to the public.
He had been hiding her security purpose...

Unconfirmed reports of her radical disappearance sporadically  buzzed through social media before calls were made to his fiancee who at the time couldn't  pick her phone to confirm the allegations. Assumption was that, he  had earlier learnt of her demise, that she wasn't strong enough to bare the news. He grew wearily weak, that even her phone became brittle for touch.

Days went by, he held pieces of the minced meat at sight. They were supple; soft, mixed with blood and crushed bones. He was numb and couldn't feel anything yet he  wondered how was it that I got cold? How was it that a body so treasured, features so succinct, could become no more in a split of seconds before you even realize that you're gone. That you've left everything behind.

The first thing they did was to send condolence messages to his social media pages. REST IN PEACE. Those who never knew Her saw her pictures, they would ask, such a young soul. What happened? Those who knew her, told of who she was.   Who she never became.
says;
'"How was it that I could become a victim of my own actions? That I heeded for help in the forests of solitude as I spoke in soliloquies, where could I have gone wrong to desert a world that I held in contempt?", this is the last statement her from him.

"Yet her face punched through my cavity, it made me want to breathe again, but how could I do so if my flesh got minced?  I wasn't just dead but dead inside. How could it be that I gave up on everything I ever knew; the good music; jazz as we danced and sipped coffee; good books, my fiancée, wealth and pride," he said

They never asked what came of him. Instead they were caught up in the realms of their own griefs.

 "My fiancée lost hope  possibly have done to drive me so fast without brakes that I got crashed? That whence I told her she meant my world, did I not have thoughts of leaving so soon? Uncontrollably she "whined"  not with loathe but of feelings
And I was broken. I became a master of my own descriptions. And tales could be told generation after generation of a writer who lived by the pen and died by the pen. A writer who crushed his bones and laid bare his flesh collated with blood on paper. That his pieces bled as they tore bitterness limbs by limbs. That sadness and hues of melancholic rythm came gushing from darkest of pits onto him; he held them and castrated them. Only at the time that he needed just one person to hold his world whence it shredded to pieces he couldn't find one. Till he gave up and left behind a vacuum. This piece bares his last pieces." he declared...

and that my frens, is how Gilberto  finally decided to  expose his woman to the public.


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