She looked after him.
He stoically ignored her, his eyes traveling over the figures of other women.
Don’t you see? Her eyes begged.
He couldn’t see.
He left her in the corner, her eyeliner running, creating smudges and lines.
How could she move on?
He had hurt her. Her heart would bear the scars, make her untrusting. She wanted him to be ‘that one.’ The first to not disappoint her.
No.
She had to move on. Thinking it was the end. [How dramatic].
She didn’t need him, she realized. Someone much better waited.
Clinging to hope, she was not dismayed.
Love the parenthetical thought.
ReplyDeleteSad. Especially like the part about the eyeliner running.
ReplyDeleteso good.:)
ReplyDelete