So tired.
So alone.
So tired of being alone.
Silent tears rain down her cheeks,
Wet streaks on a window.
Scared and worried.
Smiling on the outside,
Strangely broken inside.
So many nights spent crying alone.
A hand to hold, a chest to curl against, a soft touch upon her back.
Anything.
Instead, alone.
Then he came.
A hand to hold, a chest to curl against, a soft touch upon her back.
A voice sweet and low.
"Run, run while you can."
She wants to beg.
Tell him how broken she really is.
But no.
Shy conversations, a tiny hint.
A memory, vivid and warm,
Palms pressed together,
Gentle swaying,
Only them.
Over now,
Just a dream.
She tells herself it means nothing.
No hand to hold, no chest to curl against, no soft touch upon her back.
But a little light,
A little hope.
All hurry and no hurry.
Alone for so long and craving someone to run to.
Same painted facade and forced smiles.
But less forced smiles, more easy ones.
When he jokes,
When he uses silly voices,
When he sings and shyly smiles,
She's still alone...
But not without hope.
