The days stretch, long and empty. Lonely. And she waits. Foolishly, she waits. Some days she struggles to remember why. Not because the memories elude her, but because it is easier. Because the only thing that waits for her on the other side of those memories is the yawning ache of loneliness and the knowledge that she hadn’t been enough.
Never enough.
She had been naive enough to believe once that she could be. That there might be more than a moment’s heartbeat in time for them. That the tides would not wash away what had been so much like it does the prints she leaves the sands of the beach. And yet she lingers, day after day. Watching those very same tides erase every piece of evidence that she might once have existed there.
She had finally abandoned the island. It had left her feeling only hollow. Everything with any meaning that had once existed there had vanished. Nothing more than the glimmering flash of a dolphin’s fin, leaving behind distant memories of a better time.
Of a time when she had existed as more than the shell of a broken and forgotten woman. When desperate love had beat through her heart rather than the echoes of despair.
Today, as she had so many days before, she stands on the beaches as sunset gleams pastel hues across wet sand. Though elsewhere fall had begun to stretch long fingers across the earth, here nothing seems to change. The air is heavy and warm, the breeze lazily stirring foliage that remains vibrant. A place that seems lost in time, just as she had been.
Make me a promise that time won't erase us
That we were not lost from the start
Rapture
@[Illum]