She lay flat on her back, white pillows cushioning her head, so heavy with the thoughts of a million memories marching in dramatic circles through the devastated battlefield of her brain.
Her dark hair displayed against the whiteness, like a stain. Proof of her inability to conform.
Her body encased by the fluffiest cloud of blankets, supporting, holding her from sinking straight through the bed and drowning in her own self-loathing.
The darkness of the room doesn't try hard enough to seep into her white skin. Skin that is white as the sheets beneath her. She has no scars, not on the outside atleast. The resting place her soul has chosen is a master of deception.
Her eyes, large, rimmed with lashes that were built for battle. Protection for the only windows she has. Pupils that stretch trying to suck in as much life as they can. Tears fall. Leaving invisible trails down her soft cheeks. Each tear containing a hope or a wish that has lost its will to be discovered.
How has this happened? What combination of force, pressure, flattery, and iron strength will did it take to bury her glow? How many colors will she have to paint before she remembers the one she was born with? Why are they trying so hard to extinguish her?
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this is beautiful and tragic.
ReplyDeletelove you!