10:29 pm
my still-beating heart sits lightly in my hands, pumping what magic i have left into my palms and through the cracks of my fingers. it flows like sea water cupped into a child's hand.
my footprints sit in the wet sand and salt spray caresses my face gently but i do not flinch. i do not turn. i smile. i let it burn my eyes and smile.
there's salt in tears, so sea water can't be too foreign to me anymore. perhaps we all have it, stocked away behind our eyelids, ready to create an ocean when our hearts shatter. or when they're ripped out, and you have no choice but to watch the last of your magic pump out slowly. the lifeline of the girl you were dripping down into the ocean and floating away.
but what can you do, darling, other than laugh? laugh at how foolish you were the whole time.
happiness isn't an option for the wicked.
