=| Remembering Sunday |=
Authors note: I know this probably isn't what Alex had intended, but everyone thinks RS is about suicide. It isn't, it's about this, something that means far more to one person, than to the other. And hopefully after reading my fiction, you'll understand it a little better :) Read onn...
"I love you," the last thing I said to her, a soft sweet reprieve from the harsh world.
I didn't really know her at all.
She was a face at a concert, a pretty set of lips, with kaleidoscope eyes.
She was everything I'd been searching for, and so much more.
So I swept her away, in a sea of colours and sounds, and we were happy.
She knew me, Alex Gaskarth, as a hero, a duke, a king of music, and not as Alex, the douche who had an overobssession with noodle cups and bad poetry.
I think she was an escape, a new start, someone I could change with, grow with, be with.
She didn't judge me, she wasn't a fangirl, she was a fan, one who appreciated the music, and therefore the people.
Not the people, and therefore the music.
I knew her name, she knew mine, she was a crystal melody singing sweet through a cacophony of high pitched screams.
She was different.
She gave me butterflies.
She did my head in.
She was everything.
And for a moment, one small moment, she was mine.
Dreams only last for a night, but when your reality is better than your sleep, who cares to dream?
I took her away, I showed her my everything, everything I was, everything I wanted to be.
I didn't know why, but she felt right.
So right.
She bluffed, and she smiled, her eyes shone through the dark, they lit up my life.
The flashing lights, the nights we toured, they were nothing, she was everything.
I remember one night, she took my hand, she told me not to worry, that we'd see the stars.
We raced the stairs to the sky, we ran the steps, she held my hand.
Dazzling, a worlwind, a small star in a moonless night.
And she locked me out.
She was the best thing, and the worst thing in my life.
We touched, skin on skin, our lips traced a story on eachothers bodies.
Hers harsh, cynical, and mine, that which fit so well.
With each touch, with each taste, we were lost.
Wide awake, seconds too late.
She said so much without words, but I don't think she ever let me in.
I wonder if I ever knew her?
I could pick her face out of a million, she lived in my dreams, and her smile was my beacon.
But I never knew.
It meant a lot more to me than to her.
Every moment, I gave my all, I gave up so much.
We sat at breakfast, the last day.
I gave her a smile, and told her I loved her.
She looked me in the eyes, and told me she was leaving.
Everything shattered.
My nights became days, my days became nothing.
Her eyes haunted my dreams, I reached out, searching, to touch her, to hold her.
But she was gone, on a plane, millions of miles away, over my head, out of my sight.
I wondered if I'd see her again, If she would come back, smiling again, to take my hand and share the sky with me.
I looked for her everywhere, and lived in my dreams.
Just so I could see her face.
But dreams only last for a night.
After what seemed like years of guilt, sadness, and suffering, I pulled my head from the bottle and got up.
A one night stand was what I was worth.
All that I was worth.
My food was cardboard, my mouth yearned for her.
But time moves on.
Memories fade.
I will forget.
She'll always be a part of me.
She doesn't know what she's missing.
She's still finding herself.
And I was a part of her story.
I try to content myself with that.
But I'll still search, I will find her, the one who will be my forever.
It just wont be her.
I guess I'll go home.
I hope you liked this. It's just my interpretation. Just a one shot :)
x Tk