Thursday, 13 May 2010

She whispers and shouts...

... But her words are lost. Not in the breeze or on backs of white coated waves, but on deaf ears. She thinks in beautiful sentences but they come out plain, she says it how it is then, and then becomes stupidly stupid. Maybe the one who lost her words did infact just throw them away; I imagine them now strewn on the pavement outside the window. He thinks she doesn't mean it. Or means it too much; both scary I guess, for a boy. But she has just never felt this way before, well maybe once - but she has forgotten what that felt like and has taken too much of her time up with apparent self destruction that she is afraid to have the one thing that makes sense at the moment go away (she has become melodramatic, which proves what she first presumed). She knows that if words were to come back this way, neither in the breeze or on backs of white coated waves, they wouldn't be spelled the same. When the writer falls, she hurts her knees.

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