I would never (Too bad he’s gone forever)
'Not all scars show, not all wounds heal' - Lisa French.
That was her quote for the week. She wasn't much of a philosophical person, but with a lot of time on your hands, a lot of things can change. She closed her eyes.
'Time changes everything'.
She just had to keep reminding herself.
She should have expected it. Nothing good ever lasts long. It was like she was back to when she was just five years old and her mother left. Or that one time her bike got stolen after she had just gotten it the week before. But she thought this time would be different. That they were perfect. That he was perfect.
Her heart still fluttered at the thought of him. His baby blue eyes that made everything else lose their luster when they brightened up. His messy auburn hair that refused to conform to the whims of the owner. His melodious laugh that displayed his white, perfect teeth for all who cared to look.
She adjusted her position on the couch, eyes still glued to the screen. It was a drama this time. (No more thrillers, not after him). She watched the female lead crying, shouting at her partner. Screaming for him to come back.
'Pathetic'. She thought.
Just like her.
She snuggled closer to the blanket she was holding. It was the one with their initials on it. She had done it after watching a few embroidery videos. It looked terrible. But he told her he loved it anyways.
'E&B ', It read
She traced her fingers over the tacky, golden needlework. It still had his scent. His favourite cologne to be precise. The one he got just after-
'No-' , She stopped.
She had left the doors of her heart wide open and let him into her world. But all he did was burn it to the ground and leave her to deal with the ashes and the choking smell of perfume.
She threw the blanket away. She would not give him the satisfaction. She glanced at the TV again. This time the female lead was in the arms of her partner who as apologizing and comforting her.
'I would always love you and nothing can change that', he said.
She turned her head. She had made her choice and she wasn't going to look back.
'I would never, ever, leave you'.
She curled up and cried.
Of Toilets and Maggots.
There was this one job, to do I had.
'Twas to clean a toilet that never proved a sight so sad.
You might think, 'Oh wait, that doesn't sound so bad'.
But if it were you, you might not be so glad.
There were a lot of colours. The dirtiest I'd ever seen.
Yellows and browns and the ugliest shade of green.
Imagine how i'd felt, the most disgusted I'd ever been.
But the worst part to come had yet to begin.
Under a rag that looked worse for wear.
Were little white creatures - Yes, that's what they were.
Squirming and squiggling, they filled everywhere.
'Maggots', I screamed and jumped up in fear.
So dear readers, I'm not to blame, as you can see.
For shouting and screaming and choosing to flee.
I'm sure if you were asked to do the same thing.
You would certainly stand up and say, 'Definitely not me!'.