Aesthetic short stories

Make believe

Honey drips off her lips as the bee's fly around her. Roses in between her thighs, the thorns piercing olive tinted skin. Warm blood dripping down, she never noticed how much it hurt. Clouds up above, so fluffy and pink through her tinted glasses. A world of saturated colors was all she needed, it blocked out reality nicely. 

Hundreds of dandelions growing in the field she was sitting in, a gentle breeze making the seeds gracefully fly away. Red lips curl into a smile as the ever so sweet honey taste so sugary sweet her teeth were rotting.

Golden eye's with hues of blue stream down inky tears, black staining her face and skin. It burned her to the point where the pink glasses melted away, reveling the once perfect world as it is for many people. 

Clouds and breeze gone, sweet honey taste replaced with an all to familiar firey one. The roses withers into dead petals, thorns longer and sharper, the pain very much prominent now. She knew this would happen, that this calming world she built forever would go away. And everytime it seemed faster than before. 

Gray eye's flutter open.

Subtle moonlight casts on a bed, were the woman layed, blanket loose in her hands. A bottle of whiskey lays next to her, a baggy of white powder spilled on a nightstand table. There was no pink clouds, no meadow, nothing. Just a broken woman who tried to escape from her problems, and failed. 

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Felt like making a angsty story at 12am

-hiL