08-30-2020, 12:16 AM
when you're dreaming with a broken heart
She thinks, for a moment, that the war he is having with himself is just a war against her. That maybe he looks at her that way because he wishes she would leave, that maybe he finds her irritating or dull or any number of negative adjectives. His eyes keep sharpening, and the way that he shifts suggests, to her, that he would rather be anywhere than next to her.
She can’t really blame him.
She has become so lackluster and meek, to the point that her newfound ethereal glow felt like a mockery. The flowers woven into her hair were the brightest things about her, and yet it did nothing to bring the light back to her eyes. She stares at him and there is nothing but dark and ghosts and sorrow swimming there, and she cannot blame him for wanting to leave. Her demons often made poor company, and she would leave, too, if only it were an option.
In the silence that stretches between her question, he fills it instead with his body, and then a touch of his lips against the side of her mouth.
She breathes in, sharp, and there is a moment where the fog seems to clear from her eyes, and she looks at him with an all new clarity.
She catches the brief glint of his fangs, but it does nothing to keep her from stepping towards him as he moves back. “Wait,” she does not try to hide the desperation from her voice, she does not try to mask the plea in her eyes when she reaches to touch her nose to his shoulder. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want you to leave.”
She removes her nose from his side, suddenly ashamed for so brazenly touching someone that was not hers. But she does not step away, and she stands there with her nose now drawn near to her chest, her voice impossibly soft again when she says, “I want you to stay with me.”
She can’t really blame him.
She has become so lackluster and meek, to the point that her newfound ethereal glow felt like a mockery. The flowers woven into her hair were the brightest things about her, and yet it did nothing to bring the light back to her eyes. She stares at him and there is nothing but dark and ghosts and sorrow swimming there, and she cannot blame him for wanting to leave. Her demons often made poor company, and she would leave, too, if only it were an option.
In the silence that stretches between her question, he fills it instead with his body, and then a touch of his lips against the side of her mouth.
She breathes in, sharp, and there is a moment where the fog seems to clear from her eyes, and she looks at him with an all new clarity.
She catches the brief glint of his fangs, but it does nothing to keep her from stepping towards him as he moves back. “Wait,” she does not try to hide the desperation from her voice, she does not try to mask the plea in her eyes when she reaches to touch her nose to his shoulder. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want you to leave.”
She removes her nose from his side, suddenly ashamed for so brazenly touching someone that was not hers. But she does not step away, and she stands there with her nose now drawn near to her chest, her voice impossibly soft again when she says, “I want you to stay with me.”
the waking up is the hardest part
ANONYA
