Owen..........
They handed me my pair of black skinny jeans frayed and loose due to the fact of malnutrition.
I slip them on, the cool fabric spreads across my scared legs that tel the story of my past.
Then they hand me an black undershirt and bra. I slip them on no problem, what they give me next it what makes me want to stay here.
The ring, that you gave me symbolizing my past the only thing tying me to my past.
I sit it on the bed along with my bags that hold my oil paints, given to me as friends while I was here, and my canvas pages that are bound my theater strings that are filed with love, devotion, wishes and dreams.
I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath but the only thing that comes out it s long shakey,uneven, breaths. Stoping and sucking in the cold air as my mind scerams for that smoke to take in make the nevers calm down even if it kills me.
I take a step and breath normal once again, opening my tired wary eyes to meet your honey warm golden brown ones.
I run into you're arms to see behind you, that my doubts were right, the smell of her perfum fills the sickly air.
i look up to find her with my exact engagement ring on her finger....
lily
YOU ARE READING
Old jeans
Short StoryPoetry. And Letters. Prose. "You know when old jeans no longer have that new feeling and you hate them? Just like old love." - Lily Lily is a girl that has her heart crushed like throwing away your favorite jeans. These are love letters that he nev...
