❝she's quivering in fear
he's preparing his belt
he's kissing her back
smirking as she knelt❞
iii.
glenare | large, sweet and dark red
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she never understood courage.
was it the absence of fear, or the triumph over it?
she felt like courage was the intrepid waves of the ocean, unafraid to gobble the ship dancing on its waves, unafraid to destroy.
but courage was also the little boat that came to save the sinking ship, unafraid to meet the face of destruction.
Of death.
she trembled when he came home, drunk on saturdays and she trembled when he didn't come home
for days on end.
she trembled when he lifted his hand, hoping his loving caress wouldn't gash her skin by turning into something more and she trembled when he kissed her, tasting like cherry wine,
but he hated cherries and she hated wine.
she prayed for his lips to only be touched by hers.
she never understood courage.
but her courage was her love, she thought. he loved her and she loved him.
they were the point where stars crossed right, where lines met and where galaxies collided, scattering a million splinter-like pieces across the universe.
like her heart, imitating the shattered goblet, spilling its blood red contents.
cherry wine.
she trembled the day he came home sporting a black eye and she trembled when she asked him if he was okay.
she trembled when there was nothing else left to say.
he told her he adored her, more than his cars and more than his life. but was she just his measly wife, a pawn on the checkered play-field full of rooks and bishops where he was the king and he stood with-
-the queen?
the queen who was not her.
was she just a pawn, dressed in white, adorning dreams on her eyelids but no weapons in her hand? like a defenseless, useless chess piece which was either the first to get killed or gets to become the queen.
but her breaths were now shallow and her heart was heavy, anchoring her to the ground when she needed to stay afloat, when she needed to keep breathing.
but, she was just a pawn dressed in white, adorning dreams on her eyelids.
she never understood courage, but why was she ready to welcome her end with open arms?
she was something else, something, even courage failed to understand.
❝little did she know
she'll be grasping for air
he's kissing her wounds
drowning her cries of despair❞
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another shitty update but...eh
thoughts?
a/n: please tap the star and vote :)
YOU ARE READING
cherry wine - ongoing
Short Story❝ lipstick on his collar, the smell of cherry wine; scratch marks on his back, he tasted divine ❞ she finally gave in to a sorrow so deep, like the currents that carried shards of her soul away. and little by little, she finally began to understand...
