write2bhappy
it is natural and only natural that this would be the response. The gates close, the silence a humming echo. I had hoped for another answer, but I had known all along that that would be impossible.
Sounds echo in my ears, exploding and attacking and burning. Burning, burning, burning. It's painful almost, but it feels good at the same time. It's like standing in a fire, but you can't burn.
His jacket matches his eyes, blue and soft, and scratchy all the same time. My fingers work themselves across the back, over the arm, around the wrist, around and around and around. I lean back, letting the soft scent engulf me, falling into a wonderful sleep.
His voice falters when we lock eyes. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," he lies. "You know damn well that that's what you meant," He pauses, surprised at my outburst.
Please? She passes me the paper, empty spaces with answers she doesn't know. I can't do it. My transcript is perfect. I can't ruin it. Her eyes are so big that all of me shatters when she asks again. Please? But I won't do it. Never will.
His face is flushed and bright. My eyes watch the sparkle in his eyes as he throws back his head and laughs. His body shakes with laughter, his hands alive, his body dancing. All of him, every tiny bit, is happy.
She looks back, regretting the action as she does it. The long wave of indents in the sand, following her. They can't be following her, they are her own. She is swept under a wave of confusion. Confused about the footprints in the sand.
Her eyes were big as they took in the life surrounding her. They shifted side to side, observing, dreaming, seeing. The sounds were lost to her, but she felt the world. It was time, and she was ready.
The door slammed causing the little girl to shake. She knew what would come next: voices, loud and angry, loud and hurt, loud, loud, loud. "They're just words" her brain told her as she buried herself under the blankets. "Yeah," she told herself "Words are the most dangerous weapon known to humanity"
Her eyes are liquid mirrors. I can see the way they show me her soul, her life, her lies. I wan't to believe that this is the last time that she will give me a fake, made-up non heartfelt apology. But it won't be, I can feel it.
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writing since 2013 · 51 entries · 42 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Ella-Belle showed up.
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42days written
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the words Ella-Belle reaches for
eyeswordsmomenthardsoftheadanswerloudbreathhappyhandfingershandsconfusedbodyvoice