She stands alone, in a field of moon flowers, her field of moon flowers.
She waits. She knows he will not come, but she waits anyway. She is thinking of times long gone, the distant past. Those times are not night, but day, with a shining golden sun and with her smiling, which is something she has not done for a long time, not really. She only smiles so they will not worry, because she does not want to be called weak.
It reminds her of him.
She knows she shouldn't come here, to these beautiful flowers, because she never wants to leave, and dreams of them, and perhaps will one day decide to never come back home, to live here forever; but she can't help it.
The flowers help her forget, and she wants to forget. She wants to forget, finally, about him, about his betrayal, about everything. She wants to forget and then leave the flowers behind, despite their beauty, despite how the field looks like heaven to her.
She wants to run away.
But she can't; the flowers always come back to her, gleaming silver under the night sky.
She cries, alone, waiting for a day that will not come. She knows he will never come back, yet she waits, and waits, and waits.
She hates herself for waiting. She hates this chain that ties her to him; that damned chain that she cannot break, no matter how hard she tries.
Or perhaps, really, she just doesn't want to break it.
It is a cloudless night; and everything is so beautiful, so perfect, too perfect, almost. The simple beauty up it makes her cry, even more, even more.
She runs deeper and deeper into her field of flowers. She turns away; she doesn't want to remember. She knows this is not "heaven"; but she wants it, needs it, yearns for it nonetheless.
She lies on her back, staring up at the infinite glimmering dark blue, speckled with light from afar. She looks at the cold, full moon, but turns away because it reminds her of black hair on pale skin; something she will never forget.
She really couldn't ever forget him.
Even in this heaven, this paradise, she couldn't forget him. She just sobs, and sobs, and sobs. She wants to escape, but she has long since accepted that death would not make her forget.
She wants to love someone else; she really does. She wants so hard to hate him, to despise him for the hell he's put her through, but she can't!
She wants so, so badly to hate him, but she can't, and she sobs and screams and yells, but it doesn't help.
Tears fall down her face; for what does she have but salty water, streaming down onto her moon flowers, looking like fresh dew? All that mattered, all that really mattered has left, and is no longer within her grasp.
She stops crying, running out of tears. All she has left is memories, and something unfinished in her.
And so she sings.
She sings her memories to a wind long gone; to the moon, shining silver; and to her moon flowers, who listen and sing with her. She sings, trying to reach him, but she knows she will not.
Because she is singing about falling from heaven, and to her, that is what he is: heaven. Why would he want to hear?
She stops and wipes away her tears, staring up once again at the cold moon; and she wants to stay, wants to lie in the silver flowers, but she doesn't.
She turns away.
She walks to the edge and whispers to something, or someone. She certainly doesn't know.
"Heaven, goodbye."
End------
Uh, yeah. Inspired by the song Heaven's Not Enough. The last line is actually the last line of the song, and if I were to type out the lyrics, it would be the lyrics to Heaven's Not Enough. XD
God, I love tormenting Sakura. Why do I like hurting my favorite characters? x.o
Anyway, as I wrote this I listened to Heaven's Not Enough… :P Go figure.
Sayoneeeeee…