Dreaming in the lullaby, she took the night in her hand. Step by step in the Bliss. The moon was gentle and made her feel beautiful. Scars fade when no one is around to convict. She noticed another in her sitting spot. She smiled and took intrigued warning. Stepping closer to investigate. Her heart pounded. Not out of fear. But out of anticipation. The ambiguity delighted her, like a fine tea. Her dream land. Her sanctuary. The boy watched the fireflies dance across the moonlight pond. She watched him. Her feet moved closer stepping on the cloud like blades of grass with vigilance. He turned to her and smiled. He reached out his hand. She took it. He pulled her to sit beside her. In the safe asylum where the night is ornamented with stars. The air smells of wildflowers and berries. The earth tastes of the sweet innocence. The sounds are the fairies singing gentle melodies to calm the very beating of the heart. The boy. His fingers weren't calloused, but gentle. His skin was soft. His eyes were magical. His touch was affectionate and familiar. Kind. The pond took its haughty itinerary about the night and tried to persuade around their feet. They didn't mind. The air was gentle. As were his hands....and his lips...They fell into an embrace. One of trust. They rolled about the grass as merely children in this Haven. But no sooner she felt something out of place. A dead stop. He landed on her, she felt alarmed. She was trapped under him. This was a game, just an innocent game. She tried to move, but he was stronger. His eyes were no longer gentle. They stared into her soul. He was a heartless monster. She pushed. He pushed harder. The more she would breathe, the more he fought. The more she fought, the more he went down. Lashing at her like an object. This was supposed to be her haven. She cried out but the fairies would just sing. The dirt was close to her nose and she could smell corpses. Her eyes could see the sky, it was dark. She could see all around her. But there was nothing. Nothing but him. She stopped shoving him. He pushed on anyway. She loved him. She was nothing to him. Nothing but a toy to thrust his desires into. She closed her eyes in a hopeful prayer. Her eyes opened. The window to her room was open. Home. Not here...Not there...She washed her face off. And painted. No one else understood. But she did. And she was alone. Painting her own starry night on a face that would never matter.
 Made27 · Thu Apr 21, 2005 @ 01:44am · 2 Comments |
