Her Epiphany
Maybe it was sad and a little bit sick, but the pain compelled her to write again. It was as if she had this keen sense that the words sifting through her mind were once in a lifetime words. Like flecks of stardust flowing from her soul to the tip of her pen. The paper was merely there to catch them as they sprinkled down.
All of a sudden in the midst of the cosmic rain, she found herself again. As the ink glided rhythmically across the page, the epiphany came. She had lost herself when she stopped; reading poetry at 4am, listening to the delightful tunes she loved, painting canvases, singing along to the radio in her car, imagining what could be, dreaming of all the tomorrows yet to make their arrival. That's when it happened.
Now, eyes unveiled and vision swept clean, she sees how she drifted away. How she became a hollow shell of herself dangling from life by a thread. How she lost all hope. She will never let that happen again. Not in eternity. Her regrets will always remind her that she has forbidden herself from slipping again. Every hour, every sunrise, every sunset, every shooting star, for years to come will cause remembrance.
She wishes and pretends that her heart emerged from its wanderings unscathed. But, anyone who takes a moment and looks into her eyes can see her soul silently whispering "It's not true.".
-C.S.
