As much as her heart tells her that she loves him, to continue to fight for what she so clearly wants, her brain tells her to hide, to run. It shouts all her insecurities and doubts surrounding him as she lies in bed at night.
"You are pathetic. Crazy. Of course he doesn't want you, look at you", it practically yells, ringing through the death like silence created by the nights hour.
All the while, the heart engages in open war, desperately trying to cling to the fleeting notion of her love for him.
The tears now steaming down her face, the echoes of the constant gunfire between love and reason as they fall against the sheets, burning hot .
The gunfire eventually resides, leaving mere traces of what it once was across the angles of her face. Her heart beating loudly in her chest, and her brain tucked quietly away. Tonight the heart was victorious but maybe, just maybe, tomorrow she will run.
