C ·L · A · N · D · E · S · T · I · N · E ·
......
A small stream of light whispered through the slim opening between the curtains, the gentle illumination softly brushing against the face of the young woman. A quiet atmosphere brood around her, dark shadows cast upon walls that echoed the vexation inside the silhouette seated at a cluttered table. Golden flecks shimmered in eyes lost in a daze as strands of chestnut danced over her countenance that seemed so soft in the light. Soft…soft and frail.
Countless of thoughts shoved against one another in her troubled consciousness, different tones of her voice whispering and shouting possibilities back and forth, arguing amongst themselves – arguing amongst herself. There in the deafening muteness of the room, a gentle figure fought to keep herself from imploding, from crumbling within. Her foundations had been holding steady throughout it all but they were now at their weakest, worn out from the pain. Such a beating she was releasing on herself, such a torture she whipped to her own body…in the silence where the agonized screaming lay within and the hemorrhage remained unseen.
Tears stung her eyes suddenly, burning to be set free and wild upon her cheeks but not a single rivulet would be allowed to roam. Not in his company. Not when he was so near and close to finding her vulnerability. A frailty he created in her. Taking a glance over her shoulder that he had kissed the night before, kissed with such affection, she let her eyes rest upon his sleeping outline entangled in sheets. Comfort for her was the slow rising and falling of his form, letting her know that it was still safe for her. No one would know of her pain. He would not find out.
She turned her perspective back to the flatness of the table, primarily to the bleakness of her coffee, cold in its white mug whose design was but simple red letters that read of two names and a heart between.
She scoffed softly.
Dark eyes hid behind their lids and dark lashes as she finally let the tears take their sovereignty over her features. What was this pain? This pain that would not go away, fueled by the voices that screamed and begged, her heart and mind taking sides, a battle surging within her. It took everything she was, every ounce of what was left of inner strength in her to hold back the sobs, to keep her sudden trembling to a small amount.
In the solitude of her own torment with naught but the brim of morning light as witness, like porcelain the doll cracked and let her emotions bleed slowly through the wounds.
How it hurt to be hurt.
A/N:
Wrote this just a few weeks ago and decided to put it up here for publishing purposes, I suppose. I do hope you've enjoyed this little piece of sorrow. Please spare a moment and review, it would make my heart burst into a thousand giggling pieces.