Pain, Suffering, and Numb

The Chronicles of S

She sits in this place of learning, this place where the future is built. Her brown hair falls in a veil, encapsulating her head. Those piercing, blue eyes are unfocused from all the boredom. It's necessary to be here, she needs to be here, but this does not grab her mind, does not exercise her mental machine. Clad in blue she sits, her long frame is still visible regardless of the baggy material, but her slim body is hidden from sight. The eyes wish to devour this scene, to take away those atrocious excuses for clothing and see her in the clothes she feels most comfortable in. It is not the eye that wishes to remove any more than those, however, and one must make a conscious effort to keep from doing what its instincts so scream for it to do. Her body screams for it as well, maybe it is not recognizable in her mind, but her body seems to call for attention. What captures the attention the most, and what demands the friction of contact most is those lips. She wears no makeup upon them right now, she had found no reason, but their natural pink color begs to be pressed against lips belonging to that of another. Their fullness, their shape, and some undefinable, unseen force captures you. Once you are captured, there is no escape from that prison. Perhaps the best, and worst, part of the prison is that those within don't wish to escape, only to continue to dwell in its walls in order to view her beauty as much as possible

Sammi's sitting there, on a beat down old couch she got from God knows where. Her phone is in her hands, illuminating her face. The eyes that have captivated so many are lit up like never before. The light of the living is replaced by the artificial look of the phones light. The dog is curled up against her leg, new life growing inside of it. Her brown locks are pulled away from her eyes because how else could she enjoy Instagram properly? The normally long, slender body is hidden away for the moment, something about that couch, and the way she's sitting steals her height. Those long, sensual legs are pulled up against her breasts, Thank God they aren't huge, she thinks. She is warm right now, but she has felt the beginnings of winter and is preparing herself against it. Those lips, so damned kissable and beautiful are being ignored by everyone besides myself.

She flops down on the bed, too tired to even think her normal, fuck today, fuck work, fuck everything except me. Her bright blue eyes are happy to be hidden away from the world, for more their own sake than anyone else's. Of course there are other beautiful things to look at on my muse. The eyes trace her body up and down, of course focusing on a few places. The slight swell of her breasts beneath some random band t shirt, her long legs in those jeans. She looks so small when she's on the bed, her slim body being devoured by the covers and sheets around her. If we gave her more time we might come back to her wrapped up in them, her face only exposed so she can still breathe. But for right now we still get to see her, her brown hair fanning out across the bed because fuck actually trying to style it. A smile is on her lips, but she doesn't know why. Maybe it's from the fact that here she is, when nobody, including herself, ever thought she could make it here. Either way, I am thankful I can see that lovely smile.

She has not always looked this way, no. Once upon a time she was an innocent little girl hugging a stuffed animal as she fell asleep. So what happened to her to bring her to this soul we see before us? What made her lose that sparkle in that little girl's eyes? The trials and tribulations she has been through stole away the little innocence she had left, even after she lost the naivety all children are born with. The innocence was stolen by all the little lies told to her by others, and even the ones told by herself. It was stolen by all the dreams of kissing razors. Of letting all the demons that plagued her escape her from cuts made by a shaky hand. Innocence was stolen by her one-time lover, a man she thought she could trust with everything, including her future. For a time his loss crushed her, but one day, she saw it for what it was. Not a loss, but an opportunity. An opportunity to lead a better life. The author would like to apologize for not know more about what happened in between then and now, but his muse is tired tonight. She slumbers now, all the cares of daily life are gone. Her face is relaxed, and it is one of the few times one will ever see it this way. Tonight no ghosts haunt her dreams and she sleeps peacefully. Her tall figure is laid out upon the bed, her hair is in a halo around her head. Whether she is an angel, or the future ruler of hell is yet to be decided, but seeing her hair this way makes her more desirable somehow. To see her when she is not trying to impress anybody, including herself, shows you her true beauty. It brings men and women alike to regret when she must cover this naked beauty with what this world and her own mind say she must wear upon her face. Her startling blue eyes, normally so piercing it seems as though they look through any man looking to capture her attention are closed, and the eyes that look upon her at this moment are sad to see them hidden.