Down, down
falls the needle,
tracing a long since forgotten path,
memorizing the rise and fall of her chest
that always felt so out of sync now.
Her eyes blink past the
nearly forgotten tears
that just wish to fall out of place
and into a new one.
It is not the needle
that's won over her emotions for the moment,
but rather past years of regret,
and the telltale sign of a broken heart.
Her hands tremble
when the needle is in her small grasp again,
and she wonders if her source of inspiration,
of motivation,
is just a means to break her heart even further.
Perched on a wall near the bed
in the tiny, shabby apartment room,
is a poster of the once superhero of Paris,
who was as full of confidence and puns
as he was with his kind heart.
Lying delicately on her work desk,
is the latest design of Gabriel Agreste,
as his son shown it off
in the best pose
that could be fabricated
to show off his green eyes
and model esque build
His hair slightly off kilter,
and her heart aching at the beautiful design, the beautiful boy,
and all that she had lost
that not even pictures can convey.
'So how's everything, Mari?'
'You look in a daze today.'
'Did you see the new Agreste design?'
'Did you see how absolutely awesome Ladybug was today?'
Her heart ached at the memory,
the memories that constantly fizzled at the surface,
and yet it only ached more
when her fist tightened up,
ignoring the needle,
and when she realized that Ladybug wasn't all that great
she had flaws, broke down, made mistakes,
and let the most incredible man in the whole world walk out.
Marinette leans closer to her design,
vaguely inspired off of the mood of the Agreste piece,
and wonders if there's a reason
beyond all reason
that the dimensions of it
are the perfect size to fit on Adrien's shoulders,
the size that she'd long since memorized
that was as clear to her as Alya's size or her own.
Her needle twirls lightly in her hand
as her mind loses its mark yet again,
and all that the woman, the young designer,
could see
was the loving green eyes
of that boy in love,
the purr whenever she rubbed his ears just right,
and the way the puns fell from his lips one by one
'Cat's got your tongue, eh?'
She wasn't even sure if that was his voice anymore.
"I'm going insane, aren't I?"
Her fingers tap on to the fabric,
tracing long forgotten lines
that she'd pricked herself more than once making.
She stands like a stone statue,
emotionally stagnant,
as Gabriel Agreste presses down on her design
just by staring at it,
and as a younger man peeks out from the corner of the room at her,
as if his eyes are squinted in thought.
She doesn't say anything,
not as she climbs the stage,
not as her friends and family look on,
and not as Gabriel Agreste's eyes judge her
Her heart gallops,
and she can't feel at peace,
not even as she takes the trophy,
silently,
and not as the crowd watches on.
She's long since convinced herself
that a part of her died that day,
the day that her Chaton walked out,
the day that she can't forget.
She's blurred the lines
between green and cat green,
between just blond and messy blond,
and she wonders why it doesn't come blurred
and freshly delivered at her door
like a much desired pizza.
