Tuesday, 3 April 2012

No One Else Comes Close To You..

Hola compañeros!

So this is a part of BluBluBling's Awesome April again.
And follows today's inspiration. 

They waited for a sign all the while. The admonishing never sufficed to push them up to that pretty level. Some two years surpassed. They could never drop themselves onto one mutual deduction. They never fought, they used to profess, it were just silly, little arbitration. Their friends thought otherwise. Foes alike. What was it that they were awaiting? Even after two years of mishaps more than memories, what could have possibly been their binding glue. Or were they postponing the obligatory deed, on a sign. Just like he had anticipated for a sign from her to know when to take their mania to the successive echelon. But this penultimate year, they considered the ugliest. The ultimate saw them part.

Even to this day, she can't stop rummaging the identical glare his eyes wore, when they used to clash with hers. She still yearns contemplating if at all he'll ever realize that he did a lot more to her than just mar her. She had wished for him to foresee the superior. 

He'd augured her to be married one fine day. He kept his capacity. And again she deems solitude. He filched her halo and set the semblance on someone's smidgen. Her iron now seems tenacious and resolute. She'd never envisaged it in her wildest of dreams. What did she expect? That he'd give her a sign? The same people who were the admiringly awed spectators of their bond, are now the pitiful keepsakes she has. People tell her to have a heart. But how can she, when he battered it into a million fragments each time he instilled despondence in her when he would walk out on her, stomping over her heart; articulately supervising the striping of each wedge of her fortitude, and hulling off the veins of it. She looks back, at times. She'd had ample signs to conclude that he was finally going to be cracking her up, bit by bit, piece by piece. After all so much for a guy with a magnificent player reputation. She should have pondered to that sign ages before he'd hunt her down with his womaniser instincts. Knowing each other since the time when being a kid almost seemed another era altogether, knowing every wee bit of fibre inside of their bodies wasn't a healthy route for a continual path of deeper friendship. Or maybe she did know them. She shows she's strong, she shows she's hard-headed. But all she could know of deep down was that she still lives in that little shelter in that gloomy, cloudy, obscure and an almost-plethora ambience when he'd confessed to her, sang to her her the-then favourite Backstreet Boys number with his guitar, and pulled her into the Scotch mist volley of the flooding hazes; where he'd for the first and ultimate moment compelled her to saturate herself in that drizzling, frosty February twilight.

See you fellas.
Till then, tener cuidado.

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