This song made me think of the relationship or lack there of between Johnny
and Devi. Here's my song fic to Saints and Sailors by Dashboard
Confessional.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a computer and a glass of OJ!
*This is where I say I've had enough, no one should ever feel the way that I feel now*
Devi was in her apartment, looking nervously out the window. She knew she had seen Johnny every once in a while, maybe as a shadow or heard him as the fluttering of wings outside her door.
*A walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises*
She could still remember how everything went well until Johnny had attacked her. She had liked him, maybe even loved him. Maybe she still did. That area was a tender one.
*And I don't believe that I'm getting any better*
She didn't. How could she believe anything?
*Waiting here with hopes the phone will ring and I'm thinking awful things and I'm pretty sure that few would notice*
Maybe he would call her again? Part of wished he would. That part of her forgave him and wanted him back. Her sensible part didn't love him. She was scarred and that wound would never heal. He scarred her for the rest of her life, not with the knife as he had tried to. It was horrible to think that she might still have feelings for that. psycho.
*And this apartment is starving for an argument; anything at all to break the silence*
It was always so quiet. She never left it. People came to see her but nothing could ever be the same.
*Wandering the house like I've never wanted out and this is about as social as I get now*
She never left unless it was for her job at the bookstore. She was always afraid. Afraid that she might see Johnny. Afraid because she still loved him. No. She hated him. Which was it?
*And I'm throwing away the letters that I am writing you 'cause they would never do, I would never do*
She picked up the phone and dialed his number. It rang once and she slammed the phone down. She couldn't bring herself to talk to him.
*So don't be a liar, don't say that "everything's working" when everything's broken*
Everything was broken. When he told her that night he had tried to kill her he told her everything she had wanted to hear. Did he mean it? She grabbed her head and started to cry softly. She did love him then. And he had loved her? She supposed so. Why, she thought to herself. Why? Why? Why!?
*And you smile like a saint but you curse like a sailor and your eyes say the joke's on me*
She missed his smile and she picked up the phone only to hang it up again. What would she say to the man she had loved? She picked up the phone again but this time there was no dial tone. Just a voice. A familiar voice, etched with hardship, heartbreak and sorrow.
".Devi?"
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a computer and a glass of OJ!
*This is where I say I've had enough, no one should ever feel the way that I feel now*
Devi was in her apartment, looking nervously out the window. She knew she had seen Johnny every once in a while, maybe as a shadow or heard him as the fluttering of wings outside her door.
*A walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises*
She could still remember how everything went well until Johnny had attacked her. She had liked him, maybe even loved him. Maybe she still did. That area was a tender one.
*And I don't believe that I'm getting any better*
She didn't. How could she believe anything?
*Waiting here with hopes the phone will ring and I'm thinking awful things and I'm pretty sure that few would notice*
Maybe he would call her again? Part of wished he would. That part of her forgave him and wanted him back. Her sensible part didn't love him. She was scarred and that wound would never heal. He scarred her for the rest of her life, not with the knife as he had tried to. It was horrible to think that she might still have feelings for that. psycho.
*And this apartment is starving for an argument; anything at all to break the silence*
It was always so quiet. She never left it. People came to see her but nothing could ever be the same.
*Wandering the house like I've never wanted out and this is about as social as I get now*
She never left unless it was for her job at the bookstore. She was always afraid. Afraid that she might see Johnny. Afraid because she still loved him. No. She hated him. Which was it?
*And I'm throwing away the letters that I am writing you 'cause they would never do, I would never do*
She picked up the phone and dialed his number. It rang once and she slammed the phone down. She couldn't bring herself to talk to him.
*So don't be a liar, don't say that "everything's working" when everything's broken*
Everything was broken. When he told her that night he had tried to kill her he told her everything she had wanted to hear. Did he mean it? She grabbed her head and started to cry softly. She did love him then. And he had loved her? She supposed so. Why, she thought to herself. Why? Why? Why!?
*And you smile like a saint but you curse like a sailor and your eyes say the joke's on me*
She missed his smile and she picked up the phone only to hang it up again. What would she say to the man she had loved? She picked up the phone again but this time there was no dial tone. Just a voice. A familiar voice, etched with hardship, heartbreak and sorrow.
".Devi?"