Time can take its toll on the best of us. Look at you you're growing old so young.
So i think i have serious issues. This is rather depressing, but feel free to read it. It would kind make me warm and fuzzy if you told me what you thought. As well as spell check things.
note: any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is probably on purpose. unless i don't know you. oh. and this is about two girls, just to let you know.
She Was My Star
by ladyluckx3
we are ghosts
Her name was Marina and I was in love with her. We gave each other's souls joy. We gave each other peace. But I want to warn you: Our story is far from a happy one. Screaming, tears and silence. Our story has it all. I let her slip through my fingers. She is no longer here with me. Only a ghost that haunts my memories.
Her hair was black, short. Like the skirt she wore over black tights on the day we met. The evening was cool and the leaves fell all around us in our friend's backyard. It was a little over a month till I would turn twenty-one, the gears working in my mind to create the best night out I could possible create. She was a year younger than me, half a year till she would turn twenty, but she had the soul of a woman that had seen it all. Her eyes were like honey. I longed so much to live in inside that lightness, the same lightness I would one day take for granted.
We bounded over Stars, the band that filled both our hearts with so much inspiration. Her favorites were Wasted Daylight and Calendar Girl, the songs that would kiss our ears the first night she called my name in the darkness of my bedroom.
"Favorite album?" It was a question that I had been asked by every other fan, but it was different from her lips. It was as though she was asking me what is my reason for living, rather than my favorite album by the band that gave me joy.
"In Our Bedroom After War is good. Most of my favorite songs come from that CD." I laughed softly, trying my hardest not to stare at her legs.
"Favorite movie?"
"V for Vendetta," It wasn't a complete lie, "V was totally bad ass." She would find out one day that I had lied. Moulin Rouge had always been so close to my heart. In reality, I was deep down a hopeless romantic, "What about you?"
She thought for a second before a smile crept onto her lips, her teeth sparkling in the dim Christmas lights, "500 Days of Summer. Because it gives me hope."
"Hope?"
She nodded, her black hair bouncing as she did so, "Hope that things really do keep going. You just have to hang on, do your best to think positively and change things, rather than sitting around and mourning when things don't turn out the way you wished they would have."
I laughed, but these words would come back when everything went wrong.
bittersweet war
She would occupied the empty space next to me, a wonderful change from the empty sea of unused blankets that would murmur softly while I slept. But there were nights where she would not be there. Then days. And then weeks. She disappeared, without a trace that she had been there next to me. The sea turned to a storm as I tossed and turned, missing her soft skin against mine.
Finally she came back, a weak smile in her honey eyes. But I would not be swayed. No room for gentleness.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you almost everyday and you haven't been returning my calls."
The weak smile left, only to be replaced by the slightest of frowns. I was sure at that point that she was incapable of really frowning or crying. Now I know that is not the case, "I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well."
"Not feeling well? What kind of excuse is that?!" My voice got louder and she shrunk, like a rabbit stuck in the corner. I was frustrated, "If you don't want to be around me anymore than just tell me. Don't make up things like saying you were sick."
I knew in that moment she could cry. She took a quick step forward and grabbed onto the edge of my army jacket, gripping it tightly, "Why would I make up something like that?" As she let go of the green fabric, her hand reached up to push the tears from her eyes. I knew I was an idiot. I knew I should stop. Knew I was breaking her.
But I didn't stop.
"I don't know! Because you have commitment issues? Why else would you leave and not tell me anything? Sick my ass."
Her heart visibly broke. I had realized too little too late what I had done. Tell me, have you seen an egg shell carving? The people that do those put years of work into them, with the tiniest of tools and the lightest of touches. That was her heart. And I had taken a hammer to it. I had broken every light touch. Every good moment. I had broken it. Crushed it.
She simply stood, wiping the tears from her darkened eyes, nodding as she turned and left my apartment.
Follow her.
I cursed myself under my breath and moved from my spot, following her down the long hall until my hand was on her wrist. I did the first thing I could think to do. The first thing that I thought might make the slightest bit of progress on piecing her shattered heart back together. My arms tightened around her, hand on her black locks, holding her close to my shoulder. I spoke softly, knowing one more loud word would break everything, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was doing."
Shaking her head she took a tiny step back to look up at me, "Its alright." She was lying, "I should have called you back."
I pulled her close again, knowing that I was wrong. I just wanted to make everything better. Begin to glue the pieces back together. But the pieces were already falling apart in between my fingers.
we're on fire
She would always complain about headaches. Of course I would always keep a lot of aspirin handy. She would complain about being numb. I would joke and tell her not to sleep on her arms. She simply laughed and kissed me softly. Her eyes always stayed so light, despite the fact she was visibly in pain. I knew she was sick the day her mother had called, telling me the room she was staying in the hospital. I drove as quickly as a I could, short of getting a speeding ticket. My hands shook as I thought of all the possible reasons she could be in the hospital. What possible reason would someone have for making the angel keeping me sane sick?
She smiled as I entered the room, she stretched her arms out to me, her honey eyes as bright as the setting sun. Despite the fact that her short black hair was no more.
It wasn't the fact that she didn't look like herself that made me cry. I cried because she was so much stronger than I could ever be. So much more sane. The only person I would ever meet to have a smile on her face despite everything the world could do to her.
As I leaned against her bed, she simply touched the top of my head, "Hey now. Don't cry. What happened to that tough girl I know that wears an army jacket and combat boots?"
I couldn't help but laugh. She always made me laugh, "She jumped out a window."
"That's too bad. I was kind of hoping she would kiss me one more time before she left."
So I did.
I held on tightly to her fingers as she slept, my thumb rubbing softly against her smooth skin. I thought of her favorite song. My free hand gripped the sheets on top of her sleeping, broken body as my forehead rested against whatever it could.
"Who ever is up there, please don't let her die."
I never get what I need.
this is my heart
I couldn't move for what seemed like years. Like my face had aged and wrinkled as I hid in the dark cave. Hibernating. Away from any light that would remind me of her light. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I was numb.
Then on a very average day I remembered what she had told me the first day we had met. About her reason for loving the movie she did. She found comfort in the ability to move on. The idea that things that seem like the could end your world, are just the beginning. It was then I realized I had to live. Not just for my sake, but for her's. She would not want it this way.
She was my angel. My sanity. My fragile masterpiece. She was my star. I watch the sky from my kitchen window on nights when I miss her. And think of everything I could do. She is my strength. I could not live without her. She will always be my star.
notes
1. The bolded parts before each section are loosely [sorta] taken from Stars albums. "we are ghosts" comes from "The Five Ghosts", "bittersweet war" comes from "In Our Bedroom After War", "we're on fire" comes from "Set Yourself On Fire" and "this is my heart" comes from "Heart". Unlike the rest of them, "this is my heart" is actually words [sorta] from the song "What The Snowman Learned About Love". I tried my best to get the feeling from all the albums in each section they went with. "The Five Ghosts" has a very warm feeling, "In Our Bedroom Afterwar" is full of songs that are bittersweet piano, "Set Yourself On Fire" is the CD "Calendar Girl" comes from, and "Heart" has a nostalgic feel to it. CAN YOU TELL I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS BAND?
2. Besides Stars inspiring this a lot, i also have a bit of Moulin Rouge and 500 Days of Summer.
3. "Who ever is up there, please don't let her die." Those are slightly modified words from the song Calendar Girl.
4. "I watch the sky from my kitchen window on nights when I miss her." That is very similar to lines from Heart
note: any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is probably on purpose. unless i don't know you. oh. and this is about two girls, just to let you know.
She Was My Star
by ladyluckx3
we are ghosts
Her name was Marina and I was in love with her. We gave each other's souls joy. We gave each other peace. But I want to warn you: Our story is far from a happy one. Screaming, tears and silence. Our story has it all. I let her slip through my fingers. She is no longer here with me. Only a ghost that haunts my memories.
Her hair was black, short. Like the skirt she wore over black tights on the day we met. The evening was cool and the leaves fell all around us in our friend's backyard. It was a little over a month till I would turn twenty-one, the gears working in my mind to create the best night out I could possible create. She was a year younger than me, half a year till she would turn twenty, but she had the soul of a woman that had seen it all. Her eyes were like honey. I longed so much to live in inside that lightness, the same lightness I would one day take for granted.
We bounded over Stars, the band that filled both our hearts with so much inspiration. Her favorites were Wasted Daylight and Calendar Girl, the songs that would kiss our ears the first night she called my name in the darkness of my bedroom.
"Favorite album?" It was a question that I had been asked by every other fan, but it was different from her lips. It was as though she was asking me what is my reason for living, rather than my favorite album by the band that gave me joy.
"In Our Bedroom After War is good. Most of my favorite songs come from that CD." I laughed softly, trying my hardest not to stare at her legs.
"Favorite movie?"
"V for Vendetta," It wasn't a complete lie, "V was totally bad ass." She would find out one day that I had lied. Moulin Rouge had always been so close to my heart. In reality, I was deep down a hopeless romantic, "What about you?"
She thought for a second before a smile crept onto her lips, her teeth sparkling in the dim Christmas lights, "500 Days of Summer. Because it gives me hope."
"Hope?"
She nodded, her black hair bouncing as she did so, "Hope that things really do keep going. You just have to hang on, do your best to think positively and change things, rather than sitting around and mourning when things don't turn out the way you wished they would have."
I laughed, but these words would come back when everything went wrong.
bittersweet war
She would occupied the empty space next to me, a wonderful change from the empty sea of unused blankets that would murmur softly while I slept. But there were nights where she would not be there. Then days. And then weeks. She disappeared, without a trace that she had been there next to me. The sea turned to a storm as I tossed and turned, missing her soft skin against mine.
Finally she came back, a weak smile in her honey eyes. But I would not be swayed. No room for gentleness.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you almost everyday and you haven't been returning my calls."
The weak smile left, only to be replaced by the slightest of frowns. I was sure at that point that she was incapable of really frowning or crying. Now I know that is not the case, "I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well."
"Not feeling well? What kind of excuse is that?!" My voice got louder and she shrunk, like a rabbit stuck in the corner. I was frustrated, "If you don't want to be around me anymore than just tell me. Don't make up things like saying you were sick."
I knew in that moment she could cry. She took a quick step forward and grabbed onto the edge of my army jacket, gripping it tightly, "Why would I make up something like that?" As she let go of the green fabric, her hand reached up to push the tears from her eyes. I knew I was an idiot. I knew I should stop. Knew I was breaking her.
But I didn't stop.
"I don't know! Because you have commitment issues? Why else would you leave and not tell me anything? Sick my ass."
Her heart visibly broke. I had realized too little too late what I had done. Tell me, have you seen an egg shell carving? The people that do those put years of work into them, with the tiniest of tools and the lightest of touches. That was her heart. And I had taken a hammer to it. I had broken every light touch. Every good moment. I had broken it. Crushed it.
She simply stood, wiping the tears from her darkened eyes, nodding as she turned and left my apartment.
Follow her.
I cursed myself under my breath and moved from my spot, following her down the long hall until my hand was on her wrist. I did the first thing I could think to do. The first thing that I thought might make the slightest bit of progress on piecing her shattered heart back together. My arms tightened around her, hand on her black locks, holding her close to my shoulder. I spoke softly, knowing one more loud word would break everything, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was doing."
Shaking her head she took a tiny step back to look up at me, "Its alright." She was lying, "I should have called you back."
I pulled her close again, knowing that I was wrong. I just wanted to make everything better. Begin to glue the pieces back together. But the pieces were already falling apart in between my fingers.
we're on fire
She would always complain about headaches. Of course I would always keep a lot of aspirin handy. She would complain about being numb. I would joke and tell her not to sleep on her arms. She simply laughed and kissed me softly. Her eyes always stayed so light, despite the fact she was visibly in pain. I knew she was sick the day her mother had called, telling me the room she was staying in the hospital. I drove as quickly as a I could, short of getting a speeding ticket. My hands shook as I thought of all the possible reasons she could be in the hospital. What possible reason would someone have for making the angel keeping me sane sick?
She smiled as I entered the room, she stretched her arms out to me, her honey eyes as bright as the setting sun. Despite the fact that her short black hair was no more.
It wasn't the fact that she didn't look like herself that made me cry. I cried because she was so much stronger than I could ever be. So much more sane. The only person I would ever meet to have a smile on her face despite everything the world could do to her.
As I leaned against her bed, she simply touched the top of my head, "Hey now. Don't cry. What happened to that tough girl I know that wears an army jacket and combat boots?"
I couldn't help but laugh. She always made me laugh, "She jumped out a window."
"That's too bad. I was kind of hoping she would kiss me one more time before she left."
So I did.
I held on tightly to her fingers as she slept, my thumb rubbing softly against her smooth skin. I thought of her favorite song. My free hand gripped the sheets on top of her sleeping, broken body as my forehead rested against whatever it could.
"Who ever is up there, please don't let her die."
I never get what I need.
this is my heart
I couldn't move for what seemed like years. Like my face had aged and wrinkled as I hid in the dark cave. Hibernating. Away from any light that would remind me of her light. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I was numb.
Then on a very average day I remembered what she had told me the first day we had met. About her reason for loving the movie she did. She found comfort in the ability to move on. The idea that things that seem like the could end your world, are just the beginning. It was then I realized I had to live. Not just for my sake, but for her's. She would not want it this way.
She was my angel. My sanity. My fragile masterpiece. She was my star. I watch the sky from my kitchen window on nights when I miss her. And think of everything I could do. She is my strength. I could not live without her. She will always be my star.
notes
1. The bolded parts before each section are loosely [sorta] taken from Stars albums. "we are ghosts" comes from "The Five Ghosts", "bittersweet war" comes from "In Our Bedroom After War", "we're on fire" comes from "Set Yourself On Fire" and "this is my heart" comes from "Heart". Unlike the rest of them, "this is my heart" is actually words [sorta] from the song "What The Snowman Learned About Love". I tried my best to get the feeling from all the albums in each section they went with. "The Five Ghosts" has a very warm feeling, "In Our Bedroom Afterwar" is full of songs that are bittersweet piano, "Set Yourself On Fire" is the CD "Calendar Girl" comes from, and "Heart" has a nostalgic feel to it. CAN YOU TELL I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS BAND?
2. Besides Stars inspiring this a lot, i also have a bit of Moulin Rouge and 500 Days of Summer.
3. "Who ever is up there, please don't let her die." Those are slightly modified words from the song Calendar Girl.
4. "I watch the sky from my kitchen window on nights when I miss her." That is very similar to lines from Heart