short stories

crying lighting

i loved the sight of her, a little to much. she was beautiful, there is no doubt about that. 

she had always had me around her pinky finger, holding me tight as if she'd let go, she would die a slow and horrible death. it was forever confusing, for i loved her, but she didn't love me back. she had made that clear so many times.

she, one day, was talking to another woman, laughing. oh how i craved to be her. my legs found a place stood next to her, feeling the want to push the girl that had made her laugh backwards. she was mine.

next thing, you see, she was on the floor, me screaming at the one i loved ever so dearly. multiple words were exchanged, only to end it with tears.

the woman i admired so much, crying tears of lighting. it was so beautiful, yet so sad. it was sick and twisted the way my brain worked.

she cried colours of purple and orange, it was such a beautiful sight, but oh, how it made me feel wicked for thinking this way.

she swatted my hand as i try to help her, my hand later bruising from the harshness of the slap.

i fucking loved her. 

loved.