A PIECE OF ECLIPSE... I

She's tried to find it.
      But if pain a teardrop, she's cried the pacific already;
If hurt a flower, she's been in the most beautiful gardens.
                  If that perfect end...if love... a book,
  she's remained in the contents.

     ...and it's pain of the brokenness a delicate heart feels
  watching the one she loves find happiness in another one's embrace.
      the sad torture of the realization that what she always wanted so bad, was no longer an option.
the complications of holding on...not because she wants to,
            but because there's no means of letting go.
        the uncertainties of not being able to give up what she never had;
                 not being able to move past what was once a wish... a hope... a fantasy.

all over again she's searching...
                             searching for lost hope.
  memories...    nostalgia...   she relives.
          it was all with him one minute, and the next only without him -
pained from the knowledge that it was just about what she could give,
          not what she could get;
how it made her feel, not what was real.
                   but she hadn't known. She'd wished...
                                                              and trusted...
                                                              and believed.

Now with every moment comes anxiety,
       every memory brings a chill.
    She'd laid her all, and behind him, he'd shut the door.
                    ...she'd made a mistake just thinking 'forever'.
She is what she is. She'll never change.
      what will the next be? Another mistake?
                                        another walk?
                                        another shut door?

Questions in her head...yearning in her heart.
So much love to give and no one to receive.
                                     
                        But what's emotion anyway?
         she's lost it to tears... her senses, to fears.
believe it or not, she's broken. She's bled.
   and the smile she wears is only a bit of her story.
She'll give others her words, and refrain from using them.
              cause since they quit writing her fairytale,
       they'd turned another's tragedy to one.

Everyday, every moment,
    she feels the hurt, and pain, and loneliness.
         she's letting go of the past, but the difficulty of walking away
when there's no visible path to future, burns.
        Time is done telling, it's her head now.
Not her heart anymore.
 Where her heart leads, her head won't go.
                 
Done with emotion; just started on nous.

Cry all night.
Drink all summer.
Take a shot...  for her.
                           ###

That's a piece of eclipse... as i do it.


~***shanpepe***~