yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2011-08-11 06:37 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2011-08-11 06:37 pm
Entry tags:
255;
Title: boxes
Rating: G
Original. A short on being left.
some days, she feels as if she's walking with ghosts.
the memories line the walls of her apartment with empty picture frames and cracked glass; the ghosts stand in the hallway, watching with curious eyes as she steps closer and closer to her (their) bedroom and pushes open the door, stares into the white-washed room (cold and alone and full of half-packed boxes) and leans in the doorframe, holds her face in her hands and holds the sobs back in her throat. the tears come out hot and angry and bitter, and she wipes them away with bandaged hands. they still fall, though she refuses to even give them notice as she bends by some of the boxes and puts away books and sheets and blankets, methodically folding them and ignoring the ache in her heart as she does so. she doesn't dwell on the clothes or the stacks of pictures, tightly clenched together with doubled rubber bands; she doesn't dwell on the letters or the envelopes that smell of vanilla aftershave and the leather of the inside of a coat.
one by one she closes the boxes with box tape, pulling and stretching it with care over the ends and folds of the top of them and struggling with shaking hands to cut the tape with the metal bit on the roller. she pretends that her hands don't shake, but the way the roller nervously dances and doesn't cleanly cut the tape like it's supposed to gives it away. when she closes the last box she leans upon it and cries, arms folded and forehead on them, shaking shoulders heaving shaking sobs and lips attempting to form every word she wishes she could've said to make him stay. the tears drop in a rush on the cardboard, but she doesn't care; let them be a reminder to him, let him know she greived over his departure, let him remember her when he sees the dark brown spots, faded and dried, on the boxes while he's opening them to see she's given everything back to him (she has).
Rating: G
Original. A short on being left.
some days, she feels as if she's walking with ghosts.
the memories line the walls of her apartment with empty picture frames and cracked glass; the ghosts stand in the hallway, watching with curious eyes as she steps closer and closer to her (their) bedroom and pushes open the door, stares into the white-washed room (cold and alone and full of half-packed boxes) and leans in the doorframe, holds her face in her hands and holds the sobs back in her throat. the tears come out hot and angry and bitter, and she wipes them away with bandaged hands. they still fall, though she refuses to even give them notice as she bends by some of the boxes and puts away books and sheets and blankets, methodically folding them and ignoring the ache in her heart as she does so. she doesn't dwell on the clothes or the stacks of pictures, tightly clenched together with doubled rubber bands; she doesn't dwell on the letters or the envelopes that smell of vanilla aftershave and the leather of the inside of a coat.
one by one she closes the boxes with box tape, pulling and stretching it with care over the ends and folds of the top of them and struggling with shaking hands to cut the tape with the metal bit on the roller. she pretends that her hands don't shake, but the way the roller nervously dances and doesn't cleanly cut the tape like it's supposed to gives it away. when she closes the last box she leans upon it and cries, arms folded and forehead on them, shaking shoulders heaving shaking sobs and lips attempting to form every word she wishes she could've said to make him stay. the tears drop in a rush on the cardboard, but she doesn't care; let them be a reminder to him, let him know she greived over his departure, let him remember her when he sees the dark brown spots, faded and dried, on the boxes while he's opening them to see she's given everything back to him (she has).