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The girl wanted to feel heat that wasn't her own. Looking at her reflection was the only way she felt as if she wasn't alone. No matter how many people entered her life, she was always looking for a new person to end her strife.
You know, this wasn't supposed to rhyme. Funny how it works out that way sometimes…
Shit, there I go again.
Her speech was eloquent; poetic, like a song unraveling on itself line by line. Velvet and honey. You couldn't focus on her meaning because sound took priority. But she held a void with which few were concerned. They had their own trials, their own fears, their own desires.
The girl wanted heat that wasn't her own from a body familiar enough to her that she wasn't scared to be close enough to it that she could feel its heart beating. Its passion seething.
She had so much to give; unbearably much in that void that she held that was too close to touch.
Love is patient. Love is kind. Love was searching from behind, but all she did was look forward, plan ahead.
"Lean toward her," said love in a whisper close to tears. "Listen to the beating of the body's heat so close to you."
The girl was shaking. She felt her heart breaking as she drank from a hard cup to ease the passing. No matter how many people entered her life, she was always looking for someone to end her strife. She wasted something fluent to hurry her through the days and, at night, to carry her dreams and take over the rhyme.
And so she prepared to sleep. She became content with the mirror she faced two seconds longer before she fell.
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