1. Sandpaper

    Mascara watermarks flow downwards on her marble skin. They leave indents in the stone of her cheeks, little trenches of familiar tracks. Angry tears are acidic you see…and they will erode you, with each fresh tide. 

    He came along, like something out of a fairytale.

    And in his hand he held sandpaper. With each caress, he wore down those tributaries of tears. Restoring her to smoothness, to calm. 
    The pebbles that had been rattling around in her chest, were making odd noises now. For they are being bound together with flesh, pumping blood through veins for the very first time.

    He was healing her, his kisses breathing life….

    Yet, she does not know who she is now. Now, that she is happy, and no longer made of stone.   

    She had been a statue for a long time - Who is she now? 

     
    1. jambu2525 said: thanks. :)
    2. mobbleberry posted this