She cries with silent tears, slowly moving down familiar paths, falling like the raindrops of spring's end. Her face is a mask of a smile, but her glittering orbs for eyes are as empty as the hole in her brittle chest.
She wants to give him her heart, for he has earned every single broken, jagged, blackened piece of it, but the box where the heart lies still belongs to him. It has belonged to him for far too long.
He believes her heart is whole, pure and belongs to him. She wants it to belong to him, for she knows that he will treasure it. But how can she get her heart back and give it to him, when she knows can't get it back from him
Unfinished words, and hanging silences kill her, drown her in their never ending wave. She cannot remember passing days but she can remember his voice whispering sweet promises in her ear, holding her in his arms and telling her that she was his world and everything (even if it was a lie).
She wants to forget.
She wants to forget and fill her heart with only thoughts of him.
Time may be the greatest healer but her pain, her sickness, her memories cannot be healed by time.
The answer is so far out of reach, but maybe she will wait a little longer.
Just a little longer.
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