clear eyes.
- looking into a blank page is scary, you know, to start off some sort of writing, even nonsense writing because blank means you’ve got to fill it out, but then again she already feels so empty, is there even anything to write, does she feel the need to, anyways? do i?
she went on to those woods and she felt the rain on her face and there was nothing holding her thoughts from what was going on, the cars on the driveway, the mysterious man standing there with his broken umbrella, the fireplace that kept on cracking in the living room, no wood to keep the fire burning, no music left off that playlist. nothing but rain, and bending trees, fallen ones due to the wind from that night’s storm. just that unexpected moment, the stillness from those few minutes.
and she smiles, waking up from a moment of her own, thinking of what it is, to be her. and all that remains a silent call. leaves kept flying to meet the ones already landed in the wet meadow, for what it felt like a dream, a wide awake one, returning from across her silenced soul.
