Absolution

By A. Alico

This is a short story about a man who tried to live his life to the fullest till a tragedy occurs and his wife dies. It has poetic elements inside it. When his wife dies, he gives up on his life. It is over in the blink of an eye. In the end, his daughter, whom he had stopped talking to, finds a check in the house with the same last name, realizing it was her fathers. The check was never cashed. Will she live her life to the fullest or let it pass her by? This book is a lesson about life, and included are some of my poetry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546249863

A. Alico

I fell in love with poetry, and my mind continues to think, every day, in a poetic way. But it was not until recently that I started documenting every short or deep breath my heart took. Sometimes I find it impossible, on a piece of paper, to write. Its the one place I surrender, this unremitting fight. Fragments of pain are scattered throughout my words, As I relinquish control of everything that hurts. Ink is splattered on a page Like a painters Dark shades. My heart is homemade From my personal crusade. Each time, a piece of my soul is forced to confront the truth. Lies obsolete, my words are my proof. Still enamored with this self-inflicting pain, My writing, I cant control or explain. ... Author A. Alico uses a poetic writing style to spark his readers imaginations about his stories.

Book preview

© 2018 A. Alico. All rights reserved.

Illustrations created by Madeleine Kuijper

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/10/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-4985-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-4986-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908006

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

11092.png

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

11054.png

My whole life, I have loved to write, whether it has been poetry or short stories. A part of me always loved to escape into the stories I created. I live in Queens, New York. When I’m not writing, I am usually working out or doing something that gives me an adrenaline rush like skydiving and riding my motorcycle. Life is short in my eyes. You have to live it because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

2.jpg

My addiction always made things seem as if I was staring through a fog and seeing many phantasmagoric images of horror. No matter how bright it got, my poetry always kept me in the dark.

I find myself sitting alone with only my shadow and barely a spark.

My thoughts wrote the only words my mind knows, which are of dark poetry.

I won’t stop writing, I suppose till my words are seen by the whole world,

like a famous Broadway show.

What I wrote then is who I am.

What I write now is the story of how I became a man.

She lived before him

Died a little when she found him

But told herself she would thrive without him

She lost herself

She had forgotten what it means to be herself

She had to find herself

Pieces broken

Pieces battered

Pieces scattered

Pieces were picked up and put together those that mattered

She loved

She hated

For a time felt sedated

Old pieces of her heart had been eradicated

Hanging back up the pictures she had painted

Frustrated and suffocated

Her heart for so long had felt weighted

Until she had become dedicated

To find whom she was and again become acquainted

Hello have we met

Umm, yes that you can bet

I’m the part of you lost years ago

She shook her head saying I don’t no

Yes you do look a little harder

For you are much smarter

You have to search a little farther

Do you remember the smell of that rose?

The one when you were little you put up to your nose

At that moment she had froze

Memories came racing back

Looking through her past which was cracked

Before her heart broke and turned so black

She was a girl so wild and free

The same girl that would climb through this debris

The one who wasn’t afraid to disagree

So long she felt she was asleep undersea

Now reborn she had had found the key

Happiness is sometimes lost

Through pain it can be covered in a frost

But it is always worth fighting for regardless the cost

I am a victim of all my self-convictions,

Driven by relentless ambitions,

Always concealing my despondency,

And trained to be imperturbable.

My unremitting efforts throw me into chaos;

A madness caused only by my self-perfection.

However, there is such beauty in imperfections.

Faults and flaws are unique and exquisite

When unaccompanied by imitation.

It’s time to unmask who I am and who I have been.

The veil must be removed to expose who I really am.

Only when I remove this façade, which is like a fictitious ocean in the desert,

Will true happiness replenish this once lost soul.

One day, that familiar number of the person you see on your caller ID will no longer ring your phone.

One day, that familiar voice on the other end will be gone.

So I cherish the time you spend reaching out to me, even on the days I feel gone.

The sound of the air brakes

At night and early in the day, some have no choice but to take,

On time or when running late.

When the sun shines down its rays,

Or on those cold snowy days,

Long rides or a short