Earnest Elephant #5
Her eyes were swollen and his watched her heart break. Sitting in a parking lot next to the house that was home to so much of their love, she spilled out her heart. Reasons she loved, reasons she hurt, reasons her heart was shattering. There's no pain more real than a broken heart. She felt stupid for loving his snoring at night, so loud sometimes she couldn't sleep. Felt stupid for loving his inability to carry a tune, and how he loved to sing anyway. The girl with swollen eyes and a broken heart hates to cry in cars. It's too much of a reminder of pain; it bears thoughts of cancer, a first love lost, a second love lost.
For a moment she flashes back to a different parking lot, lit by a neon blue cross. The night was like some twisted confessional where the priest was a past love, and her sins were caring too much. There, in that car, she realized what it meant, what it felt like, to be alone. Scared of the future, of the lump in her mother's breast, she clung desperately to his arm and cried, but truly sat there alone.
Now, here, in this car, her eyes were swollen and his eyes were searching for a cure to the pain. Too young to love, they sat separated by the one thing that kept them clinging to one another. He thought of nights when he held her in his arms and the rest of the world faded away. Long bus trips by her side, they'd write secrets to one another on a pad of paper or her new laptop. He still loved the way she looked in that glow. The only thing he hated was how she looked when she cried and how it broke his heart.
He never thought he'd feel this way again. Sitting in this car, he identified her feelings. Searching her eyes as she purged her love, he remembered. He didn't like cars either. It made him think of a backseat, and a face he'd never forget. Of how he'd sold his soul to her that night, a sale with no return.
Back in the car, her eyes were swollen and his guilt was painted all over his face. As she sat in the driver's seat, her hands upon the wheel, she thought back to the loving things he'd said. She could picture in her mind a note from the bus where he confessed
"I don't think that I would make it for very long right now without you. Even more than the fact that I couldn't, I wouldn't want to. I refuse to attempt to imagine what I would be like not to be able to walk up behind you and wrap my arms around you and kiss your neck. It would make life virtually unlivable. I want to be with you, and only you, and from now on, and for as long as I can be with you I want to be with you. I love you."
thinking of that moment started the tears all over again.
And there they sat. Her eyes were swollen and his love was lost, to a list of things he needed to accomplish before love was really an option. He got out of the car and watched her drive away. Knowing she'd be losing sleep tonight, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and went to bed alone. Waiting for his roommates to fall asleep, he pulled his comforter over his head and layed alone with his thoughts.
And now his eyes were swollen and her image was imprinted on his mind.
For a moment she flashes back to a different parking lot, lit by a neon blue cross. The night was like some twisted confessional where the priest was a past love, and her sins were caring too much. There, in that car, she realized what it meant, what it felt like, to be alone. Scared of the future, of the lump in her mother's breast, she clung desperately to his arm and cried, but truly sat there alone.
Now, here, in this car, her eyes were swollen and his eyes were searching for a cure to the pain. Too young to love, they sat separated by the one thing that kept them clinging to one another. He thought of nights when he held her in his arms and the rest of the world faded away. Long bus trips by her side, they'd write secrets to one another on a pad of paper or her new laptop. He still loved the way she looked in that glow. The only thing he hated was how she looked when she cried and how it broke his heart.
He never thought he'd feel this way again. Sitting in this car, he identified her feelings. Searching her eyes as she purged her love, he remembered. He didn't like cars either. It made him think of a backseat, and a face he'd never forget. Of how he'd sold his soul to her that night, a sale with no return.
Back in the car, her eyes were swollen and his guilt was painted all over his face. As she sat in the driver's seat, her hands upon the wheel, she thought back to the loving things he'd said. She could picture in her mind a note from the bus where he confessed
"I don't think that I would make it for very long right now without you. Even more than the fact that I couldn't, I wouldn't want to. I refuse to attempt to imagine what I would be like not to be able to walk up behind you and wrap my arms around you and kiss your neck. It would make life virtually unlivable. I want to be with you, and only you, and from now on, and for as long as I can be with you I want to be with you. I love you."
thinking of that moment started the tears all over again.
And there they sat. Her eyes were swollen and his love was lost, to a list of things he needed to accomplish before love was really an option. He got out of the car and watched her drive away. Knowing she'd be losing sleep tonight, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and went to bed alone. Waiting for his roommates to fall asleep, he pulled his comforter over his head and layed alone with his thoughts.
And now his eyes were swollen and her image was imprinted on his mind.
posted by Anonymous at 2:06 AM
1 Comments:
I really liked this. I liked the references to her mother and her past loves. Bravo!
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