Glass Heart

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I hadn't seen her in weeks.

But when I did, I didn't recognize her.

Gone was the fierce, determined fireball that had captured my heart.

She had been replaced by a frail figure who was frightened by a twig snapping.

As I got closer, I studied her features.

Her skin was a ghostly shade of white without even a tiny hint of pink.

Her red curls were dull and washed out.

Her sky blue eyes were beautiful, but empty and distant.

"Merida?"

She turned to face me with a vacant expression.

"Hiccup."

Her small, thin hands started shaking uncontrollably and her eyes went wide.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.

"W- what do you w- want from me?"

I stepped closer and embraced her.

I thought that she was shivering from the cold.

It was February.

February 14th.

She pushed away from me and ran across the park.

I was going to run after her.

But I didn't.

I don't know why.

I walked into a small cafe, ordered a black coffee, and sat down.

As I reached into my pocket for my sketchbook, my fingers touched paper.

Notebook paper.

I pulled two sheets of folded notebook paper.

One was a sketch of a girl with a thick braid down her back and fringe.

Astrid.

The other was filled with words.

Blue eyes are your weakness.
You saw hers and forgot mine.
I had given you my heart,
Made of glass, held by thread,
And you dropped it.
The fragile shell shattered.
You left for her,
Leaving me to gather the fragments.
I tried to mend it,
But you were my all.
And I was your nothing.
I tried to live like I used to,
But you were everywhere.
And I was nowhere.
I tried to sing away the sorrow,
But you were my song, my peace, my laughter.
And I was a broken note, chaos, tears to you.
You were nothing but perfect.
I was nothing but a monster.
She is for you,
But you were for me.
Why should I argue with myself
About letting you go
Why should I make an idiot of myself
By asking you to come back?
Better to end this now.

I realized what she was saying.

I jumped up and ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And ran until I found her.

She took a step into air.

I caught her arms, her wrists.

I pulled her up and into my arms.

"Never again." Was all I said.

She cried into me, into my heart.

Now that I held hers again,

I would never let it fall.

Hi! I know that Merida doesn't sound like the poem writing type, but when you're that depressed, anything can happen. I got the inspiration for this from @MerricupIsMyLife's one shot The End. She is an amazing writer. Anyway, I implore you, beseech you, to keep reading. (Just wanted to use my extensive vocabulary.)

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