I was inspired tonight by one of my favorite songs by John Mayer, Dreaming with a Broken Heart, hence the title. It's a beautiful song, you should definately listen to it. And, I also think you should watch, from So You Think You Can Dance, Kherington and Twitch do the bed dance to this song. Amazing. I could watch it all day. And my sister practically did. Enough of me, do what you gotta do- Mikella
I left early from the after-party that night. I didn't want to be around them any more than I had to be. The pain was still too fresh, too new. Our relationship had been public and the breakup even more so. The paparazzi had followed me everywhere. I'm sure they followed her too. But they didn't know. No one knew. They didn't know how much I hurt inside, how everynight I longed for her. The rage I felt would soon diminish, turning into loneliness, and then illusions of her next to me. But she wasn't. Because she's gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
Everyone knew. So everyone tried to comfort me. I could tell when they were about to do it, I could read it in their faces. Their eyes would be full of sorrow, and their foreheads scrunched up in what they thought was pure sympathy. Outstretched arms would soon embrace me or a soft hand would rest gently on my shoulder. Words would tumble out of their mouths and into my deaf ears. I didn't want to hear what they had to say. All I wanted was to be alone. But what I really wanted was to be with her. But shes's gone. And I'm still here.
I sat up quickly in my bed, sweat pouring down my face. The sheets beneath me were almost soaked through and the comforter was twisted around my body. I was hot and sticky, just like I had been a few nights ago, when I'd had the same dream.
The dream. It was more like a nightmare. At least once a week it visited me. It came upon me, only to bring me down even further. My gut wrenched each time it happened and I felt sick to my stomach. Why did it have to end this way? My heart broken in two.
I'd imagine her next to me often, her dark hair splayed across the pillow. Her smile shining in the darkness of the night. She would pull the covers up to her chin, taunting me. The next moment, she was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
We had been happy together. I guess it's hopeless now. Pointless. She's gone. And I'm still here. Waking up each night in a cold sweat, the bed holding only me when she should be there next to me. My body aching with loneliness.
I crawl out of bed, bending over on my knees. I look around in a desperate attempt to see if she's there. If she's standing in my room. Maybe somehow she'll be there, waiting for me to notice her. I look again, but in vain. She's gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
A vase of roses sits on my nightstand. The petals are dry and wilting. She had left them here, the last memories I have of her. I touch the flower and smell the sweet, last fragrance of the rose. The petal falls into my hand, crumbling into tiny pieces. Gently, I rub them between my fingers, then let the remains fall to the floor.
I slide back onto the bed, running my fingers through my hair, my eyes closed and teeth clenched in frustration. I lay there, wishing and hoping that she'd come back, that she'd be there next to me, lying there peacefully. But she won't be. She can't be. She's gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.
