Demi Imagines 2.0

Thin White Lines

I suck at poetry. You're welcome.

She fills her empty heart with thin white lines
Life to live no care to give. Sky void of signs.
She prays at night. Wishes to see the light.
But all is dark. Her soul's pain unsaid.
White she so desires. She bleeds blood red.

You don't know how to help her. She's lost. But you don't know how to bring her back. Every fucking day, she's not there. She's not human anymore. Everything is fake.
"Demetria!" you snap when you see her passed out on the floor. This happens all too often. She can't even make it to the bed.
You pull her up, struggling to carry her. She's completely limp—you'd think she was dead, but you can tell that she's breathing.
"This has gone on long enough," you say, practically throwing her on the bed. She groans as she comes to.
"What?" she says, the single word slurred beyond comprehension.
"You're done. I've put up with this long enough. If you can't do it, I'm going to do it for you," you say, going over to her bag and getting her phone.
She remains on the bed, moaning and groaning.
You go over to the bathroom before practically tearing open every single drawer and cabinet there is. You get rid of every last bag of the toxic drug.
You destroy her phone—you know this one is the "drug phone".
"You're going to stop. Now. You're going to be clean from now on," you tell her, and she makes a sound that sounds like a cross between a groan and a whine.
"What did you do?" she slurs, looking up at you and trying to shake her head.
"You have no more drugs," you tell her flatly, and her eyes widen slightly.
"I'm sorry—"
"Sober up before you talk to me," you say before walking out of the room.

Three years later...

She hasn't touched the white powder since that day. And she's finally human again.
"Hey," she calls as you walk through the door.
"Hey. What is it?" you ask, tossing your bag aside.
"Want to go on a walk?"
"Sure," you reply.
You go on a walk together—something you never could've done when she was on drugs all the fucking time.
"I love this time of day," she says.
The sun is just setting, illuminating the world with a gorgeous orange glow.
"Me, too," you say. Ever since she'd first said that, you could never see sunsets the same way. They became your favorite time, too.
"I love you," she says, looking to you.
You squeeze her hand gently.
"I love you, too."
"I can't believe you stuck with me through those years," she admits, and you smile slightly.
"I knew you could get through it. I loved you too much to leave," you respond.
She stops walking and faces you.
"I'm sorry for what I put you through."
You blink. She's never apologized for that time.
"What's gotten into you?" you ask, laughing lightly. "You know I don't care about that anymore."
"I know, but I can't really ask this without apologizing first," she says, reaching into her pocket.
Oh fuck, it's happening.
"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. Thank you for saving my life. And I'm sorry for what you're going to have to put up with—if you say yes to this proposal," she says, getting down on one knee. She produces a gorgeous ring.
"Oh my god, you're really doing this."
"Fuck yes I am," she replies, making you laugh. "So, what do you say?"
"I say with you, life won't be boring, and I'd be honored to go through it with you by my side." She smiles at your words and slips the ring onto your finger.
"No take backs now," she says, and you roll your eyes.
"Of course not," you respond as she stands up.
She pulls you into a hug, and you smile as you breath in her scent.
She's really alive now. And you love it.
"I love you so much," she says, pulling away enough to look at your face. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours.
It feels as amazing as the first kiss you shared. Your heart beats faster, and your skin feels like it's on fire.
"I love you more," you whisper against her.
"Impossible."

A/N
that was kinda dark and then happy bc my mood literally improved while I wrote it lmao