12-22-2019, 10:38 PM
sometimes I'm terrified of my heart;
of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants —
He doesn’t try to touch her back, and she notices, but she does not fully recognize the way it makes her feel.
On the surface there is something like hurt, but it’s a superficial feeling, and not one that truly takes root.
At her core, though, it is the way the hunger inside of her strengthens, and how her heart twists strangely in her chest that lingers the most.
It’s a peculiar feeling that scratches at her, but she doesn’t know how to name it, and maybe she never would. She knows it feels like the space inside of her chest is too large, and she doesn’t know how to fill it. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe it’s another heart that she needs, one that could beat steadily alongside hers. If she could just fill up all that empty space with someone else then this longing ache would disappear, but she is afraid that no one will ever want her.
Someday, when she was older, she would not take no for an answer. She would convince him to want her, to want to touch her, but today she is still young and naive. She steps away from him, her eyes diverting away from his almost shyly, but she still smiles when he speaks again. “My mother says the stars are beautiful, but they hurt. She says that most beautiful things are like that, though.” She looks back at him again, her dark eyes alight with admiration, because she cannot fathom how anyone can be so lovely. “But you’re beautiful, and I don’t think you’d ever hurt anyone.” Glass can cut once it’s been broken, but she doesn’t realize that; perhaps the only shred of innocence she had been born with is not being able to grasp that everyone is capable of hurting someone.
On the surface there is something like hurt, but it’s a superficial feeling, and not one that truly takes root.
At her core, though, it is the way the hunger inside of her strengthens, and how her heart twists strangely in her chest that lingers the most.
It’s a peculiar feeling that scratches at her, but she doesn’t know how to name it, and maybe she never would. She knows it feels like the space inside of her chest is too large, and she doesn’t know how to fill it. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe it’s another heart that she needs, one that could beat steadily alongside hers. If she could just fill up all that empty space with someone else then this longing ache would disappear, but she is afraid that no one will ever want her.
Someday, when she was older, she would not take no for an answer. She would convince him to want her, to want to touch her, but today she is still young and naive. She steps away from him, her eyes diverting away from his almost shyly, but she still smiles when he speaks again. “My mother says the stars are beautiful, but they hurt. She says that most beautiful things are like that, though.” She looks back at him again, her dark eyes alight with admiration, because she cannot fathom how anyone can be so lovely. “But you’re beautiful, and I don’t think you’d ever hurt anyone.” Glass can cut once it’s been broken, but she doesn’t realize that; perhaps the only shred of innocence she had been born with is not being able to grasp that everyone is capable of hurting someone.
Desire