Cursive

Roses

I watched her, I saw her

Saw the brown birthmark on her right shoulder and her left knee
they suited her

I saw the odd way she would hold her pen and write
her hand dancing along the pages
elegant scrawl in black ink, it was always black ink
every letter telling a story itself with the way it was written
papers filled with poems and feelings and emotion

I watched her get mad
memorized the way her top eyelids would lower down, a blank expression taking cover on her face
I saw her eyes light up when she was happy and knew the mischievous glint in her eyes

I was fascinated by her
by the way she easily read people like they were open books

Her fingers spasming when she got frightened
Her laughs which could be mistaken as giggles
The way she would smile when she caught me looking at her

I watched her

I stood there and watched her let someone else see her the way I did

and now I watch him

I watch the way he stands over her grave
shaking hands planting red roses in the ground beneath,
she only liked black roses
choked sobs echoing through the empty cemetery field

I'm not quite sure whether I envy him or pity him

I wonder if she ever watched me

I leave her and make my way to drown out everything, begging to be with her again  

I beg to be taken away and into her arms
her earthy scent with hints of coffee and caramel enveloping me
to feel her comforting hands holding me, telling me everything will be alright even though it really won't
but it's alright as long as she is the one there

Candles flicker
rain pours down
my shadows come out to haunt me again

The sky darkens and the only thing here with me is the lonely twinkling star
I hope it's her

It's shitty but look who finally posted, I'll try to post more this week