Perspectives

Worth more than a drop

To learn to trust is a walk through a thick brush with thorns constantly ripping through your shallow skin. It never was like that in the beginning. Nothing else seemed to matter but to love him. His power got her to wake at night and sleep at day, always without him. He never came home.

But when he did she'd beg him for attention. She never received enough but let the drop of attention and 'love' from him be enough.

Deep down inside she knew she wasn't the only girl only getting a drop of love. She was jealous of the invisible girls that may be getting oceans from him, a hurricane even.

Wasn't she enough?

The bed was a comfort, the solitude was a comfort, the paintbrush was a comfort. He was a comfort.

She prayed and prayed with every cold dinner that he'd come home and spend the night with her. But he rarely did.

The sun peeked in through the blinds. Such a small ray from such a big source.

Like her.

She sat up and let the ray paint her face like she did to the canvas. Why was her power being hidden in such a thin ray of light when she had such an explosion of light in her waiting for an escape through her tormented skin.

She ripped the blinds open and the ray expanded and covered the whole room. She smiled. Her smile was only in her memory, it had been so long. She undressed slowly and bathed in the natural light.

Later she bathed, and kept the blinds away. She dried herself. She dressed herself.

She walked outside and filled herself with light and got lost in the new world that had opened before her.