Shawn Mendes Imagines

Three Empty Words

lol last night was one of those nights where i dressed up and did my makeup for just like ten mins before going to bed lmaooo

also sorry that i occasionally post some random poetry crap cause ik im only fourteen & clearly not a poet,, but i  love writing them sometimes just for fun, haha.

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TPPOV

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The daylight outside had waned and dimmed into a cold, bleary night sky sprinkled with the few, smallest of stars-- which dully sparkled even after they had been dashed and divided across the black velvet they painted.

Through the frosted window glass, on the other side where he awaited, his mind was quiet.

He sat with his tailbone stressed against the headboard of the bed, his pale, creviced fingers raked through the rich tangle of hair that cascaded down her back and stopped just shy of her waist, the hair of the girl who laid across his lap.

Her eyes, while closed, fluttered slightly, her chest rising and falling against his thighs. She was not there with him, even though she physically was. Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere far off that he could never reach, never touch, never be welcomed into.

The bed was indeed empty, aside from himself and his own thoughts, which were ever so shallow and did not touch surface until this very moment.

The television was left on, with its soft glow touching his face, but not necessarily touching him. He sat and watched, not minding it much until his wavering gaze narrowed on the dark-skinned woman on the screen, who concluded the commercial she was staring in with her monotone robotic voice softly asking, "Ozark Family Dentistry-- when was the last time you were truly happy?"

His tired eyes grew cold. The momentum of his hands against her head slowed to a halt, as his brain began to shut down, fall apart, and put itself back together again piece by piece in an order he could not coherently comprehend.

When was the last time he was truly happy?

He did not know.

It was especially difficult to say. His job had become an awfully dreadful chore, his family had not eaten a single meal in the same room together for years-- his life was a routine, one that did not seem to break, like the roaring waves of the sea. Crashing continuously and repeatedly onto the sandy shore without question, back and back again, he was thrown into the tide without warning.

It wasn't easy for him to think of her anymore. He did not crack a cheeky grin when her face appeared behind his eyelids, he did not blush when her name left his lips. Not like he used to.

He struggled to replace his guilt with logical reasoning. He was not leaving her. She had left him first.

Her heart belonged elsewhere-- be it in her workplace, her activities, her passions, even if it was found in another man. She was not here. The girl he had fallen in love with was not here, she was not the girl laying horizontally across his thighs, snoozing softly, her body at peace.

And as much as he attempted to deny what he had come to, he knew he could not bear it. He was not happy.

He was not happy here.

With another slight stroke of her knotted hair, he softly hummed a tune under his heavy breath, his voice low, nearly silent.

"I love you," he said softly to her, though he was certain she could not hear.

He only desired to repeat the words that he still acknowledges daily, but never stops and recaps. He used to like the way it sounded. To say that he was in love. To stand up high on an alter above his family and friends, seeing her eyes reflecting on his above her lacy white dress. He pledged that day that he would take her until the day that he dies. In sickness and in health.

In sickness and in health.

But she had left him first, he had never been more sure.

"I love you," he repeated again, his voice different this time.

Those words seemed to lack the effect he had hoped for. They lost their sincerity, lost their truth. He did not feel right saying them. He did not want the promise that had already been broken by her.

More than anything, he wanted to love her. He wanted it to be there.

But it was not. It had taken flight long ago, and was now soaring miles above the stars that he gaped at through the thin glass of the shoulder length mirror.

"I love you," he tried once more, just to be positive that he was not mistaken. He was not.

He was going to force himself to go second.

***

boring i'm sorry. but i have an imagine i'm working on rn that i think y'all will love so stay tuned!

p.s. happy thanksgiving if you're canadian! ❤️😊

-avey