the stars, the moon,they have all been blown out;you've left me in the darkThe rain was soft, a steady drizzle as she wandered down the sidewalk, umbrella twirling behind her, purpose forgotten. She walked her own tightrope, boots splashing heel to toe as she hummed, eyes half-closed and cheeks creased with her smile. They were bright eyes, and a bright smile, radiant to the point of discomfort for all those who saw her.
How happy she must be, they murmured quietly to one another,
How wonderful a life she must half.The smile never made it off the street.
She would open her door to darkness, utter and complete, where any light, whatever the source was snuffed out.
He'd taken the light with him when he left.
She took two steps down the hall, turned right, and continued on seven more before turning right once more and stopping, hand turning the knob on instinct and memory. She grasped for a hanger from the rack, fumbling several occupied ones before at last chancing upon one without a tenet. Her coat slid from her shoulders, shedding droplets as she slid the hanger into the sleeves, reaching blindly for the bar at the top of the closet. The hook grasped something, and she let go, shutting the door slowly and carefully.
A soft, muffled whump echoed, crying the fall of the very coat she had just hung. Her lip trembled, and for a second her fingers tightened on the knob, ready to turn and rescue the soft, plush coat from where it had fallen. But no, she dare not-his things were still there, ready to ambush her unsuspecting fingers.
Bumping her forehead lightly against the wood, she turned, half stumbling down the hall as her feet went from carpet to linoleum, thumping softly. She shuffled in the cupboards, pulling out a mug and the old copper-bottomed kettle. Setting the mug down on the counter, handle turned in, she crept to the sink, fumbling with the faucet handles as she filled the kettle. Water trickled down the edge, running along her finger before striking her foot. Turning off the tap, she slipped back to the stove, placing the kettle down gently as she felt for the knobs, turning all she found.
She pulled the kettle from the stove, ignoring both the absence of the whistle and the fact that the stove no longer lit. She poured the water into the mug, fumbling a bag of tea from the box above the counter. She had wanted to stop, stop this little ritual he started and forget it, forget it all and move on, but she
couldn't forget, couldn't avoid the memories, and so the tea went on, just as her need for him continued, growing with every moment spent in that dark apartment.
Her fingers fumbled with the door, dread filling her heart as it opened silently, holding her breath. She shuffled forward slowly, toes spread for balance. She edged along the bed, hand stretching to take the old cup even as she replaced it with the new one. Ice cold tea slopped over the edge as she turned, moving faster than before, anxious to leave. Grabbing the handle, she swung the door closed, waiting for the click. Sinking down, she rested her back against it, tears streaking down her face.
The whole exercise was beyond pointless, and anyone with sense would have stopped long before. But then, she didn't have much sense.
Those cold hands would never grab a mug again, entombed forever in their grave of sheets.
no dawn, no dayi'm always in this twilight,in the shadow of your heart.
▬▬❨
plz coyune
