Come clean

He swore those words were for me. He swore they were genuine and true. He swore he meant them for no one but me. But how was I to believe him? He was a boy. Just like the last one.  They’re all the same aren’t they? They promise you everything. The sun. the moon. And the stars. And swore to make all the planets revolve around you.  They tell you everything; real and fake and make you believe it all without a doubt. they make you dream unimaginable dreams. And then you wake up the next morning, and the tides have changed. The moon seems lower in the sky and the nights are more longer and scarier. How do you let yourself feel that way all over again?

He threw roses at my feet hoping I’d let him in. But I was scared. Scared to my very core. I was scared to let my hair down. Scared to hold those hands I’ve never touched. Scared to let him trace my skin. Too scared to even let myself fantasize about it. Maybe he’ll see this and realise it’s a waste of time. Maybe he won’t and he’ll continue to be naïve and stupid and throw flowers that die in a day at my feet.

I want to feel. I want to be able to feel something again. To feel that spark. To feel fire at the tip of your fingers as you trace the outline of my face. To feel warmth in your eyes as you gaze in to mine.  I want to be able to feel what was taken away from me.

She says, You’re a masochist for falling for me.
 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

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