kirstiewinget

    I remember of all the things about him, his gaze was the main thing that morphed my view. His face generally showed little emotion aside from his eyes, yet they could tell stories with such vivid detail without his lips every echoing a word. He would often appear optimistic whenever I saw him, creating humorous remarks and sometimes pulling a small smirk on the corner of his smile. But the day I spent with him he showed very little of those amenities, they were all replaced with quiet and judgement. He had vigorously invited me yet that day he stared down at me like a clueless child, casting deep shadows the size of trenches in my self es

     I laid there, my arms cradled around her, just watching her breath. The window above sent the only light into the hazy room, casting distorted images that rolled down her body with each breath she drew. As I laid there, I heard her breathing become stifled, and watched her small frame begin to quiver. Each bone that jutted from her body shifted as she lay there in my arms, crying. I lifted myself as gently as possible to watch her face without moving her, and my heart dented at the sight. She was wrapping herself around a pillow while laying in my arms, sleeping yet crying. Tears rolled down her face and caught on her cheekbones and lips