Dear eyes,
I heard that you encouraged him. That when he looked into you, it felt like he was in heaven. You were his opportunity and recklessly, you opened yourself up to him and I payed the price.
The fear that strikes you also appears to instigate him. Stop cowering. Can't you just exert aggression for once? Can't you wear a strong aura instead? It's your fright, your panic, your distress that allows him to dominate over me. You enable him to treat me like his puppet on his stage.
In turn, your tears prompt him even more. He prospers seeing the inferiority in you as he stares longingly at the reflection created by your tears. Your glassy appearance boosts his ego and he pounces.
Now, you suffer from a lack of sleep. The dark circles that have gradually appeared under you are heavy. You feel heavy. I know you're sore from all of my crying and constant waking up at 3 o'clock in the morning. You are exhausted and I know that. I'm sorry for tiring you like that.
It's hard but I'm glad you see nothing when he touches me. I'm glad that I kept you shut. I'm glad that there is one part of my body that he hasn't managed to scar yet. Yet.
YOU ARE READING
EPHEMERAL
Historia Corta[ inspired by twirlingwands' 'pithy' ] SHE WAS SORRY FOR THE INFLICTION DONE TO HER TEMPLE, THOUGH IT WAS NOT HER FAULT.
