Its 4 am.
Sleepless amid the thorns wishing and praying her prince didn't flee.
Four hours of fitful sleep, tossing and turning with unsettling fusions of remembered people and places. Exhausting, warped dreams.
She lies awake, huddled under the sheets, trying in vain to hide from the chilling apprehension that dances at the edge of her heart.
Turning she buries her head in her pillow in an attempt to suffocate the memories...the pain...
I wont distance myself from you...
You're beautiful...
I cant bear to see you like this...
I'll be a shoulder to lean on...
Im always here for you...
Its 5 am.
The pillow is wet, chilling her tear-stained cheek.
I thought he'd understand. I trusted him, showed him the twisted fragments of my battered heart. Is that all you wanted from me?? Couldn't you stay and be a friend??
Don't you understand what you're doing to me...?
Its 6 am.
The clouds outside her window are turning pink, purple and blue, faintly edged with gold.
She remembers her favourite childhood cartoon, CareBears.
She wishes desperately she could go back to that age; no cares, no stress, no fear, no brokenhearts.
I'll never trust again. Never. Vehement promises. Her heart knows they're futile. How many times has this happened??
They say she's beautiful. But then they turn away and forget her leaving her hating her face.
Not my kind of pretty...
Show someone the bleeding remnants with the dagger still in...they just grab the dagger and thrust it deeper.
Its 7 am.
A ringcut. A message.
Staring at the phone. Waiting for it to light up with a reply. Light up her dark heart.
Don't go...
Don't leave me...
I didn't mean it...
Christina De Silva
08 April 2009
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