A Day of Torn Jeans

this is me getting over broken hearts in the form of faery tales

 

She wanted that last kiss goodbye; he grace’s her with that last gift. His lips lingering too long, under the filled moon to stain her memory. Its warmth spreading from fingertips to soul, sinking far below the skin, past the bone into the meta-physical. The effects bleeding through her hopes granting her the false belief that one day there could be more.

He let his lips linger a minute too long. Aware this stain will ruin her heart, mark his name above her pride. He gave one last wish never to consider it should be their permanent ending, leaving doors to unanswered questions wide.

Later, when the stain showed through she blushed too deep for anyone to accept her answer of ‘it’s notihin’. Slowly as the stain absorbed her life, the heart began to realize distant and commenced with breaking. The works she gave birth to reflecting him, them, their time too often. Slowly the knowing that this stain, this distance began her ruination. The stain, the brand of this existence, was left too long to disappear.

In a moment of strength she garbed her form in needle, thread, patches, pain, pen, ink, and word hidden beneath her flesh. Over the stain she worked obscuring this damage of its creation leaving only remnants beneath her art and through thread strings. He would not leave her so easily but she could go without their once upon a time. Finding love in others soul, knowing rips and tears can be turned into a beauty that breathes individual truth.

He did not stain her to ruin, just presented a day of torn jeans.

 

Author's Note

Cp. 9:59PM Wen 01/23/08 �Be Like That� 3 Doors Down strong with by one of those but not me, expressing, ok tired but here and going belief and breathe deep (Written, Random Sheet)