From afar, he saw her walking in the same vast room as he is in.
He is reminded of the old times: the times he loved her in every action she did and in every word she said, the times when he fell for her over and over again, the times her eyes sparkled with admiration when she saw him. He is reminded of her scent as she walks pass, the sweet, strong scent of fruity perfume and her skin, and the way the scent lingered on his shirt from when he held her tight. He is reminded of the times he had watched her like this- oblivious, head down, walking towards no other but him, smiling as bright as the colour of her cheeks when her eyes- the eyes that couldn't meet anyone else's- met his.
She sits at the far end of the room, her back is what he can only see. She wasn't walking towards him. Her head was down, but, not now, she hasn't looked up. Her eyes don't sparkle in adoration- or in anyway- anymore.
She had forgotten.
---
A/n: To be continued...
[14/03/17]
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Lone Heart | ✔
PoetryIt's you. It's always you. But it never should have been. --- [A collection of thoughts I thought were good when I first thought of them.] [12/07/18 rank - #480/528 in prose] [17/07/18 rank - #203/556 in prose]
