07-28-2015, 10:22 PM
| — A D A L I N E — your mouth is poison; your mouth is wine (you think your dreams are the same as mine) His words make small tears, but they are tears regardless. Small and numerous, they multiply until she feels as if her very heart has been flayed open for the world to see. She takes a ragged breath that causes her lips to tremble, and her pink eyes became raw and vulnerable instead of the dreamy haze that they had been. “I don’t know,” she whispers under her breath, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth of his nearness. The warmth that seemed impossible given the circumstances, but that seemed to seep from his thin, fragile body regardless. It was a delicate warmth that flared next to her, one so potent she would have sworn she had felt the burn. “I didn’t want to risk you,” she finally confesses, which, although true, still felt like a pathetic excuse. The truth was that she didn’t know why she hadn’t asked him to come with her. She didn’t know why she had gotten up in the middle of the night to start walking without turning back. She simply had. She had felt a hunger in her belly for something else, and she had followed it. She had felt a pang when she had saw him sleeping, with his long lashes pressed against his cheek, but she had still left. Perhaps that made her cruel. One tear escapes and falls gently down the slope of her face, and she presses her forehead into him. “I was wrong. I am so sorry.” She waits with the silence weighing impossibly heavy against the curve of her spine, until she is sure that she cannot bear another second. “Please don’t leave me.” |