drops of mercury

tafetta roses

she wakes like spring; gently and quietly, subtly edging into a new day. there is a miniscule smile toying on her lips and the buzz of optimism in the air.

still, she can't stop the nagging fact that by the end of the day, she will be utterly drained and exhausted; robbed of the will to function.

so instead, aspen ignores it the best she can and seals her eyes tight. whisps of knights in shining armor and beautiful princesses being saved flitter across her mind, remnants of a dream gone by, too good to be true.

it reminds her of him.

but he's taken. captured by the wicked witch, aspen muses amusedly, except none of it is true, is it? the stereotypical fairy tale storyline has been ruined; there is no evil villain, no careful crafted abduction.

it's beginning to throb again, the gaping, black hole in her chest and aspen doesn't want to be chained down in that shadows deep down once again, so she laughs at nothing and forces herself to stare at all the colours of the world.

it's effective, shockingly, and there's the most curious, soothing feeling tingling down her limbs and she is relieved.

but aspen doesn't know if she can hold on for much longer.