On the Rocks
Flesh pressed against the rocks, she sat with the waves gently playing with her feet. She knew that she would be found soon, but every moment of seeming serenity lightened her load a little, and every bit helped. She wasn't upset. She was slightly disappointed, but mostly just sad.
It had been a long time since it started, it happened, and it finished. There wasn't much time between the three. She counted the days, and wished she hadn't. The act of counting made her seem very small, through the eyes that she saw herself in. Small was something she was trying very hard not to be. Yet, every thought made her cry and every tear that slid down her satin skin seemed to wear away a little bit of what made her who she was.
Baby's black balloon makes her fly.
I almost fell into the whole in your life.
She knew that it was a silly thought, and hardly worth tears, let alone nostalgia. In front of her, she saw the sun sink into the horizon, its light scattering across the surface of the water, and could almost feel the warmth at her feet.
Almost. A lot of things break at almost. She wished she had stopped at almost. Most people do- almost is what you can get away with. I almost broke the plate but I didn't. I almost said yes, but I thought twice. She did not stop at almost, though. She consciously broke almost into several shards, and took a conscious, liberal, even haughty step across the line that separates almost and actually.
Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?
She was not some sort of larger than life hero. All she did was take reins for once, and she got the directions wrong. A far cry from heroic. She knew it. But she also knew that the sun was shining too brightly for her to sit beneath a tree. She basked in it, and let the light seep through her skin, into her blood.
She knew he would be somewhere else, dancing, or racing, or doing something else equally silly and meaningless. The water meant nothing to him. Atleast, nothing that it meant to her. Or maybe it did. She knew little about him, or who he was. What she did know, and recall at that instant, was how good he was with his hands.
he first time she felt those hands, she knew more than she thought she did. When his fingers ran through her hair, she felt beautiful. When the crevices between her fingers were filled by the vines that were his, she felt complete. Then, all that mattered to her was him- his fingers, palms, the veins in his wrists, and the rest of him.
She thought she heard someone calling out to her from behind, but she wasn't sure. The water and the sound it made against the rocks was all she wanted to hear. She tried to let things be about what she wanted. It offered her a sense of control.
She pressed her thumb against her tear-soaked cheek and put it in her mouth. She let her tongue roll over it, feeling the smoothness of her uncut nail, and letting the edge cut into the tip of the tongue. Just so much that it hurt, but not bled. Her palms secreted sweat at the first taste of salt. Her tongue now wandered to her shin, and tasted it through the bristles that found their way up, from the previous thursday.
And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Not quenched, but too tired to continue, she stood up and smoothened her white linen skirt across her thighs. The rocks had formed a pattern on her thighs, creasing them in intriguing ways. After examining it for a period of time, she pushed down her skirt and wiped her face with her sleeve. After making sure the patterns were hidden, she turned around and headed towards her friends. On her face was a smile, which would remain until the next time she came back to climb her rock and seek solace in the song of the ocean.
***
Credits: Goo Goo Dolls, for lines from their songs- Black Balloon, and Name
It had been a long time since it started, it happened, and it finished. There wasn't much time between the three. She counted the days, and wished she hadn't. The act of counting made her seem very small, through the eyes that she saw herself in. Small was something she was trying very hard not to be. Yet, every thought made her cry and every tear that slid down her satin skin seemed to wear away a little bit of what made her who she was.
Baby's black balloon makes her fly.
I almost fell into the whole in your life.
She knew that it was a silly thought, and hardly worth tears, let alone nostalgia. In front of her, she saw the sun sink into the horizon, its light scattering across the surface of the water, and could almost feel the warmth at her feet.
Almost. A lot of things break at almost. She wished she had stopped at almost. Most people do- almost is what you can get away with. I almost broke the plate but I didn't. I almost said yes, but I thought twice. She did not stop at almost, though. She consciously broke almost into several shards, and took a conscious, liberal, even haughty step across the line that separates almost and actually.
Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?
She was not some sort of larger than life hero. All she did was take reins for once, and she got the directions wrong. A far cry from heroic. She knew it. But she also knew that the sun was shining too brightly for her to sit beneath a tree. She basked in it, and let the light seep through her skin, into her blood.
She knew he would be somewhere else, dancing, or racing, or doing something else equally silly and meaningless. The water meant nothing to him. Atleast, nothing that it meant to her. Or maybe it did. She knew little about him, or who he was. What she did know, and recall at that instant, was how good he was with his hands.
he first time she felt those hands, she knew more than she thought she did. When his fingers ran through her hair, she felt beautiful. When the crevices between her fingers were filled by the vines that were his, she felt complete. Then, all that mattered to her was him- his fingers, palms, the veins in his wrists, and the rest of him.
She thought she heard someone calling out to her from behind, but she wasn't sure. The water and the sound it made against the rocks was all she wanted to hear. She tried to let things be about what she wanted. It offered her a sense of control.
She pressed her thumb against her tear-soaked cheek and put it in her mouth. She let her tongue roll over it, feeling the smoothness of her uncut nail, and letting the edge cut into the tip of the tongue. Just so much that it hurt, but not bled. Her palms secreted sweat at the first taste of salt. Her tongue now wandered to her shin, and tasted it through the bristles that found their way up, from the previous thursday.
And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Not quenched, but too tired to continue, she stood up and smoothened her white linen skirt across her thighs. The rocks had formed a pattern on her thighs, creasing them in intriguing ways. After examining it for a period of time, she pushed down her skirt and wiped her face with her sleeve. After making sure the patterns were hidden, she turned around and headed towards her friends. On her face was a smile, which would remain until the next time she came back to climb her rock and seek solace in the song of the ocean.
***
Credits: Goo Goo Dolls, for lines from their songs- Black Balloon, and Name
posted by sedder at 12:09 am
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