Imagine a girl, on her table, staring at her laptop, typing any words that passed through her mind. Accompanied by semi-bright bed lamp by the corner of the room.
It was cold and within the towel wrapped her wet hair, a midnight writing wouldn't help. a midnight conversation should have helped but it won't help. a midnight movie couldn't help.
She should have been in bed, sleep or dreaming in her sleep.
Greet the pillow and the brand new sheet. Anywhere beside the desk where held her desperation.
A light to keep her sober from love.
She just lied to herself for not wanting the good night kiss; She kept denying she actually need sleep.
Those two swollen red eyes haunting the moon for not changing shifts with sun, moments of despair wasn't enough for her, the wasted tears weren't enough. An hour ago, bathroom floor was her hero for not pushing her to stand on her own, which allowed her to sit, and cope with a feeling that was so... fragile.
She giving up for the towel. Her dark wavy hair smelled like a morning breeze resemblance from the shampoo she used. Still wet, out of control.
Just like her feeling towards the background picture on her cellphone - exaggeration arise inside the poems she made. Inside every writings she made.
She was okay.
At least, she was trying to be okay.
Honestly, the bass was too loud to be forgotten.
and the airplane? too big to be a shooting star. It's going to take someone to somewhere far, anyway.
No comments :
Post a Comment