Springtime. New beginnings that signified the start of new life. A season
where love can ressurect itself from the cold winter months, to flourish.
Especially today. February the 14th. The most important day for any lover.
The amourous mood surrounds me now in this little park. Couples wandering
hand in hand gazing lovingly in each others eyes. To them there is no one
more important than the person next to them. Their world, their life
revolves around their love. To them it is a time to celebrate their
happiness and love. For me it is time to brood and regret mistakes. I walk
around feeling out of place. A solitary Mona Lisa surrounded by images that
cut through me like Picasso's art. In my hand a small blue box. In my box a
little silver ring. Today I was supposed to give this ring to 'my' love. To
offer him my heart my soul. But yesterday's events have differed to what I
hoped. Shrill shouts and loud yells echo in my ear. An image of his face
appears, sorrowful as ever; the image of him before I slammed the door at
him and collapsed in bed crying, alone. Is it my fault? Probably. Should I
apologize? Definitely. As for what was stopping me, simple. Pride. I can
never accept when I'm wrong, even when it costs me the most important
thing, or rather, person in my life. If only he knew how much he means to
me.
My eye falls on a couple. They stand out from the countless others; not only because of their strange appearences. It seems I have found another unhappy couple on this supposed day of 'love'. The woman is pretty. Actually more like gorgeous. She has a body I, and many others, would die for; a perfect hourglass figure wrapped by a strappy peach dress that falls just above knees. On her hands a pair of white gloves; a weird accessory as the sun is shining brightly. Her hair falls down in luscious milk-chocolate curls, accentuated by oddly-placed, yet not unsightly, white streaks. Her lime-green eyes are glittering with anger at her lover.
Speaking of her lover, now he's the kind of man I would fall for; if I wasn't taken already that is. Gorgeous chiseled features. Shoulder-length auburn hair that falls messily, giving him a devil-may-care attitude. In fact, his eyes look like they've been given to him as a present by ol' Beezlebub himself. Scorching red on deep black. They're the kind of eyes that bewitch you, that can leave you captivated for hours. Right now though they look anything but entrancing. They're filled with a desperate sadness. His looks up at her standing figure beeseechingly, almost as if he's begging her to forgive him for whatever mistake he has made. Around them a picnic has been set out. Food, drinks. A small vase has tipped near the basket, in it two intertwining roses.
I watch captivated by the little scene unfolding, as others walk by blissfully unaware in their little bubbles. She looks down coldly at him, ice-green meeting fiery red, as he reached his hand up to try and implore her to sit. It's eerie. Looking at her again I realise the emotion in those eyes. Pride. He reached for her gloved hand but before he can touch her she snatches it away. She agrees to sit down but places herself as far from him as possible on the picnic mat, arms crossed, face sullen, back turned to his face. It almost breaks my heart to look at him, his eyes are forever on her, devotion obvious in his features. I feel like screaming at her to accept his apology, but my eyes gatch a glimpse of her own first. They're wet, shiny not with anger, but with tears. It's obvious that she loves him as much, or maybe even more, than he does her. He tries again. His half- gloved fingers stroke her back. She shivers slightly but doesn't pull away as before. Taking a chance he moves closer, whispering things in her ear as he continues stroking her back in fluid, comforting motions. She slowly turns to him, her lower lip trembling. She cries now, letting her tears fall in rivers, releasing the tension. As she does he gathers her with his arms, holding her softly, as if she were fragile. They rock together for a while as she sobs on his shirt; him still whispering words in her ear; breaking off once in a while to kiss her hair on her forehead. After a while she pulls away gradually. He wipes her tears with his gloved hands and tenderly pushes away a lock of hair. She looks down, as if ashamed, but his fingers lift her chin up until they face each other. Emeralds meet rubies. Their eyes glitter in unison, not from sadness or anger, but from the love they share.
As their arms envelop each other again I leave the two. The little scene leaves me with something I realise I've been searching for. Hope. I open the little box again and look at the silver ring that shimmers in the sunlight. My eye catches the inscription inside.
"Love shall conquer all"
I smile softly and put the ring and the box back in my pocket, knowing it wouldn't stay there for long.
~linkin 2002.
Disclaimer:- characters (excluding narrator) not mine.
Inspired by the challenge 'Strange Angles'.
My eye falls on a couple. They stand out from the countless others; not only because of their strange appearences. It seems I have found another unhappy couple on this supposed day of 'love'. The woman is pretty. Actually more like gorgeous. She has a body I, and many others, would die for; a perfect hourglass figure wrapped by a strappy peach dress that falls just above knees. On her hands a pair of white gloves; a weird accessory as the sun is shining brightly. Her hair falls down in luscious milk-chocolate curls, accentuated by oddly-placed, yet not unsightly, white streaks. Her lime-green eyes are glittering with anger at her lover.
Speaking of her lover, now he's the kind of man I would fall for; if I wasn't taken already that is. Gorgeous chiseled features. Shoulder-length auburn hair that falls messily, giving him a devil-may-care attitude. In fact, his eyes look like they've been given to him as a present by ol' Beezlebub himself. Scorching red on deep black. They're the kind of eyes that bewitch you, that can leave you captivated for hours. Right now though they look anything but entrancing. They're filled with a desperate sadness. His looks up at her standing figure beeseechingly, almost as if he's begging her to forgive him for whatever mistake he has made. Around them a picnic has been set out. Food, drinks. A small vase has tipped near the basket, in it two intertwining roses.
I watch captivated by the little scene unfolding, as others walk by blissfully unaware in their little bubbles. She looks down coldly at him, ice-green meeting fiery red, as he reached his hand up to try and implore her to sit. It's eerie. Looking at her again I realise the emotion in those eyes. Pride. He reached for her gloved hand but before he can touch her she snatches it away. She agrees to sit down but places herself as far from him as possible on the picnic mat, arms crossed, face sullen, back turned to his face. It almost breaks my heart to look at him, his eyes are forever on her, devotion obvious in his features. I feel like screaming at her to accept his apology, but my eyes gatch a glimpse of her own first. They're wet, shiny not with anger, but with tears. It's obvious that she loves him as much, or maybe even more, than he does her. He tries again. His half- gloved fingers stroke her back. She shivers slightly but doesn't pull away as before. Taking a chance he moves closer, whispering things in her ear as he continues stroking her back in fluid, comforting motions. She slowly turns to him, her lower lip trembling. She cries now, letting her tears fall in rivers, releasing the tension. As she does he gathers her with his arms, holding her softly, as if she were fragile. They rock together for a while as she sobs on his shirt; him still whispering words in her ear; breaking off once in a while to kiss her hair on her forehead. After a while she pulls away gradually. He wipes her tears with his gloved hands and tenderly pushes away a lock of hair. She looks down, as if ashamed, but his fingers lift her chin up until they face each other. Emeralds meet rubies. Their eyes glitter in unison, not from sadness or anger, but from the love they share.
As their arms envelop each other again I leave the two. The little scene leaves me with something I realise I've been searching for. Hope. I open the little box again and look at the silver ring that shimmers in the sunlight. My eye catches the inscription inside.
"Love shall conquer all"
I smile softly and put the ring and the box back in my pocket, knowing it wouldn't stay there for long.
~linkin 2002.
Disclaimer:- characters (excluding narrator) not mine.
Inspired by the challenge 'Strange Angles'.