Authors Note- Something I came up with last night, got the idea during a family dinner. Tell me if you like it. Tell me if oyu don't. Its a stand alone. I hope you enjoy it. Oh and thanks to Liby for her positive words to keep me in the frame of mind lol. Oh, there are no names mentioned, but I did write it as a carby. You will probably get that impression through some of the things written.
It was given to her on their first date. She had insisted she only liked dead flowers. He didn't care. He told her with beauty like hers she only deserved the best. She did as she always did, rolled her eyes. It seemed oddly appropriate for his comment. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, placing a kiss upon her forehead. She smiled, he made her smile. He never knew it, she couldn't tell him. He was the one thing that was sure, through everything he was there. Standing strong, being her pillar. Now she no longer had that luxury. She fingered the pedals in her fingers, reminiscing. Cold, lonely nights brought these thoughts back. Not the most influential nights in their relationship, but the special moments. The rain splattered against the window, dying a most painful death. She listened to the thunder roar, as she drowned herself in thoughts. Thoughts that would bring most people misery, but for some reason, brought her comfort. She no longer could be surrounded by his arms, for they know bring someone else that same comfort. She no longer needs them. She has something else, something that she has searched her whole life for. Confidence, assurance, self belief... There are many names for it. None of which she could claim as suiting her. Not till now at least. She smiled at the thought. That no longer someone else could bring her that comfort, but herself.
She places the flower down on the table. Staring at it for a moment. She's not sure why she never got rid of it. Replace it with something more suiting to her. He would never notice. But she couldn't. It held a special meaning, something she could never put her finger on. Maybe it was destine to be unknown. But here, almost two years after it was given to her, it sits next to her. Representing a piece of him? Possibly. The lightening cracks into the room, the rain hitting the glass harder. She watches it, bringing herself away from him. He does belong to her now. Although she remembers those moments well, they will become buried in a book of her life. Smothered by many, more important, memories. Ones that shaped her as a human being. Her gaze is directed towards the lone flower, once again. When he showed up with it she was shocked. She always figured he was the type to go all out. Like a bouquet. Hell, even twelve bouquets. But no. One flower. It was enough. Yeah, it was enough.
She pushes herself off the mattress, the springs making a satisfying squeak against her slippery palms. She fingers the bottom of the shirt she wears. Pulling it over her head she discards it onto the bed. Replacing the tattered t-shirt with a sweater. It brings her warmth against the cool breeze, that sends a shiver up her spin. She pulls on a pair of sweat pants to complete her outfit. Her eyes fall upon the flower, she picks it up, opening a drawer, its home for the past little while. It was known as his drawer. The one that occupied all his belongings when he was here. Then all the things that reminded her of him, once he was gone. One day she opened it to find the flower. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. She quickly slams the drawer, the dresser rattles against the wall. The flower still in her hand.
~*~
The rain runs through her hair, tossing it around the air. She's not sure why she is doing this. Its something that needs to be done, she guesses. Something long over due. She plays with one of its leafs. Remembering the way his fingers rub against it when he noticed she still had it.
"See, its dead now. Just like the rest." He had found her obsession with dead flowers morbid. Well, she was morbid. Taking pleasure in the more depressing side of life. Living her life that way, seeing no need for change. Not until he showed her a need for change. Something to live for other than her shattered dreams. It told her to make those dreams a reality. Maybe not in so many words. But in the way he looked at her, when he saw her unhappiness. The frown that crinkled his brow. No could she be his happiness, nor could he be hers. He deserves some of the credit though. He brought her to a new place in life. A place she never knew existed. Now that she knows, she never wants to leave. The bad days may be bad, but the good days are just as sweet. She loves him for this. For showing her the world, a place she could never have found with out him. She never told him, she never will. But she loves him. She always has. She can't help but love him. He is such an extraordinaire person. One who may have lost his way from time to time, but always seems to land sunny side up. She dragged him down, but at the same time he brought her up.
She stands in front of his stoop. She pulls the flower out of its hiding spot. No longer having a shield from the rain. Its being exposed. Just like she is doing. She is exposing herself. He will know. Its the only way out. He built a castle of dreams around their relationship, and left it for her to live in. Now she is coming out from the shelter. She is ready to live in the real world. Fully live there. Not just part of her. This the last possible step to her full recovery. She has fixed every other part of herself. Everything she hated is gone. The drinking. She realises she has faults, but they no longer feel the same. She feels she can control them. Or at least come to terms with the fact that they may pop their ugly heads from time to time. She can deal with them. Or better deal now. She inches closer to the doorway. She knows it could be blown away by morning, off somewhere completely unknown to both of them. But this is okay. As long as she knows it no longer is with her. She will keep the memories. Lock them up. Somewhere safe. During her deepest, darkest hour she can dig them up and relish in them. That will be only a selective few occasions. None of which will take place tonight.
She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ears. A shaky hand reaches forward, placing the flower under the shelter. She thinks about tucking it under the mat, but figures its better there. Out in the open. It doesn't need to be stepped on. Live out the same fate her heart did. She stares at it for a second. Watching the memories of their, short lived, life together flash before her eyes. Sweet kisses shared in the summer rain. Nights spent making love. Quick hugs as each went on with their busy lives. Trying to keep the flame alive. Realising their emotions, their past pains, would stand in the way of anything realistic.
The rain that drenched her from head to toe slowly stops. A light breeze rushes through her hair. Providing a sense of support. She feels a smile wash over her face. Maybe its all okay now. Probably not. She knows there will be some nights where she wishes she could pull it out of its hiding spot, just like she use to pull the tequila bottle out of the exact same spot. But now she needs neither. She turns, walking away. The sun peers through the charcoal colour clouds. Her bruised heart showing hope. Not all is lost. The faded picture has shown some colour, the dim life she once held in the palm of her hands, has let the light crack through.
The bleeding heart has mended her bleeding heart.
It was given to her on their first date. She had insisted she only liked dead flowers. He didn't care. He told her with beauty like hers she only deserved the best. She did as she always did, rolled her eyes. It seemed oddly appropriate for his comment. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, placing a kiss upon her forehead. She smiled, he made her smile. He never knew it, she couldn't tell him. He was the one thing that was sure, through everything he was there. Standing strong, being her pillar. Now she no longer had that luxury. She fingered the pedals in her fingers, reminiscing. Cold, lonely nights brought these thoughts back. Not the most influential nights in their relationship, but the special moments. The rain splattered against the window, dying a most painful death. She listened to the thunder roar, as she drowned herself in thoughts. Thoughts that would bring most people misery, but for some reason, brought her comfort. She no longer could be surrounded by his arms, for they know bring someone else that same comfort. She no longer needs them. She has something else, something that she has searched her whole life for. Confidence, assurance, self belief... There are many names for it. None of which she could claim as suiting her. Not till now at least. She smiled at the thought. That no longer someone else could bring her that comfort, but herself.
She places the flower down on the table. Staring at it for a moment. She's not sure why she never got rid of it. Replace it with something more suiting to her. He would never notice. But she couldn't. It held a special meaning, something she could never put her finger on. Maybe it was destine to be unknown. But here, almost two years after it was given to her, it sits next to her. Representing a piece of him? Possibly. The lightening cracks into the room, the rain hitting the glass harder. She watches it, bringing herself away from him. He does belong to her now. Although she remembers those moments well, they will become buried in a book of her life. Smothered by many, more important, memories. Ones that shaped her as a human being. Her gaze is directed towards the lone flower, once again. When he showed up with it she was shocked. She always figured he was the type to go all out. Like a bouquet. Hell, even twelve bouquets. But no. One flower. It was enough. Yeah, it was enough.
She pushes herself off the mattress, the springs making a satisfying squeak against her slippery palms. She fingers the bottom of the shirt she wears. Pulling it over her head she discards it onto the bed. Replacing the tattered t-shirt with a sweater. It brings her warmth against the cool breeze, that sends a shiver up her spin. She pulls on a pair of sweat pants to complete her outfit. Her eyes fall upon the flower, she picks it up, opening a drawer, its home for the past little while. It was known as his drawer. The one that occupied all his belongings when he was here. Then all the things that reminded her of him, once he was gone. One day she opened it to find the flower. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. She quickly slams the drawer, the dresser rattles against the wall. The flower still in her hand.
~*~
The rain runs through her hair, tossing it around the air. She's not sure why she is doing this. Its something that needs to be done, she guesses. Something long over due. She plays with one of its leafs. Remembering the way his fingers rub against it when he noticed she still had it.
"See, its dead now. Just like the rest." He had found her obsession with dead flowers morbid. Well, she was morbid. Taking pleasure in the more depressing side of life. Living her life that way, seeing no need for change. Not until he showed her a need for change. Something to live for other than her shattered dreams. It told her to make those dreams a reality. Maybe not in so many words. But in the way he looked at her, when he saw her unhappiness. The frown that crinkled his brow. No could she be his happiness, nor could he be hers. He deserves some of the credit though. He brought her to a new place in life. A place she never knew existed. Now that she knows, she never wants to leave. The bad days may be bad, but the good days are just as sweet. She loves him for this. For showing her the world, a place she could never have found with out him. She never told him, she never will. But she loves him. She always has. She can't help but love him. He is such an extraordinaire person. One who may have lost his way from time to time, but always seems to land sunny side up. She dragged him down, but at the same time he brought her up.
She stands in front of his stoop. She pulls the flower out of its hiding spot. No longer having a shield from the rain. Its being exposed. Just like she is doing. She is exposing herself. He will know. Its the only way out. He built a castle of dreams around their relationship, and left it for her to live in. Now she is coming out from the shelter. She is ready to live in the real world. Fully live there. Not just part of her. This the last possible step to her full recovery. She has fixed every other part of herself. Everything she hated is gone. The drinking. She realises she has faults, but they no longer feel the same. She feels she can control them. Or at least come to terms with the fact that they may pop their ugly heads from time to time. She can deal with them. Or better deal now. She inches closer to the doorway. She knows it could be blown away by morning, off somewhere completely unknown to both of them. But this is okay. As long as she knows it no longer is with her. She will keep the memories. Lock them up. Somewhere safe. During her deepest, darkest hour she can dig them up and relish in them. That will be only a selective few occasions. None of which will take place tonight.
She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ears. A shaky hand reaches forward, placing the flower under the shelter. She thinks about tucking it under the mat, but figures its better there. Out in the open. It doesn't need to be stepped on. Live out the same fate her heart did. She stares at it for a second. Watching the memories of their, short lived, life together flash before her eyes. Sweet kisses shared in the summer rain. Nights spent making love. Quick hugs as each went on with their busy lives. Trying to keep the flame alive. Realising their emotions, their past pains, would stand in the way of anything realistic.
The rain that drenched her from head to toe slowly stops. A light breeze rushes through her hair. Providing a sense of support. She feels a smile wash over her face. Maybe its all okay now. Probably not. She knows there will be some nights where she wishes she could pull it out of its hiding spot, just like she use to pull the tequila bottle out of the exact same spot. But now she needs neither. She turns, walking away. The sun peers through the charcoal colour clouds. Her bruised heart showing hope. Not all is lost. The faded picture has shown some colour, the dim life she once held in the palm of her hands, has let the light crack through.
The bleeding heart has mended her bleeding heart.