February 18

But, there was someone she gave herself to. She didn’t contemplate the consequences. She didn’t care that she would have to be against the world to be with him. She gave it to him piece by piece. She opened up to him layer by layer, like a flower. She offered up herself, her time, her words, everything. When there was nothing more to take, he left her. She lay wounded as though an arrow had been pierced deep into her heart. She emptied herself off her tears and ink until everything inside of her had turned cold. She ran away into the woods, away from the world, from everything starry and light. Familiars faded behind the veils of memory. She drifted to the music of melancholy. Time went by, the sun had witnessed many winters and no one saw any more of her.



2 thoughts on “February 18

  1. Mandie Hines says:

    “She drifted to the music of melancholy.” Short piece today, but such a lovely line. This piece is an interesting commentary about the well that we draw from to love and care for others, and how if we don’t take the time to love and care for ourselves, and replenish the well, it will dry up leaving us unable to care for or love anyone else.

    Liked by 1 person

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