She played her own heart like a movie as her story line became everything necessary. She transformed every feeling in present time into action, just the way the movies do. It was all in the way she pretended to be real. She made believe she was someone else for just the beginning and then she turned. It was all in the way she turned. In the way she moved.
The way her face looked just before she pressed her lips. The way the light barely touched her face only because it was bouncing off of everything else, seemingly showcasing her glow. The way her fingers traced nothing but the curves of her own feelings, turning them into the smallest of puppets coiled together by the strings; Only proving the justification of her mindset. The way her mouth turned fragile at the very moment her mind felt it, too, perfectly aligning themselves, thus becoming an emotional motion. The way her lightheadedness concluded the carelessness of dying in that moment.
She closed her eyes and everything she has held onto, everything she's held to be hopeful, was out. All the tiny little thoughts and the immense elation seemed to cancel out and bound the confusion.
And it broke me. It broke my heart into a million little pieces.
It never occurred to me how perfectly it made sense until it was thrown down and shattered on the floor.
I've brought this on us more than anyone could ignore what I've done, what I've done, what I've done.