It always hung neatly at the back of my wardrobe, just waiting for the day when I could casually slip into it and not have to worry that it would hug me too tightly.
I felt like it was an old friend whenever I stumbled across it, when looking for something else that had long found its way into the land of the lost. It was almost like comping home after being away for months on end. It was, in fact, the only thing I had left. The only reminder of what used to be. The only thing that could possibly jog my memory and cause a flood of emotions to sweep into my very being. It was the only thing I had left to keep me from going insane, knowing everything I did and still do now.
It was so much more than its physical state too. It was late night walks in the past with a guitar and a notebook of thoughts safely under lock and key. It was lazy Sunday afternoons on the sofa with a tub of Ben and Jerry's finest and Mr snuggles to keep me at just the right temperature. It ws was the old garden, shown to me in a new light - but, mist importantly... it was him.
His deep brown eyes and sugar brown hair, his skillful strumming and soft singing. It was the way his eyes lit up whenever he smiled and laughed at his own joke that wasn't even the slightest bit funny. It was his way of telling me that he was still thinking of me, eventhough now and then it may seem impossible, and his way of saying 'I loved you and I still do.'
Even now I don't quite know why he chose it. Never in a million years would i have even looked at it, let alone let it be in my possession if it wasnt for him. Looking at it in my wardrobe, even now when times have changed and so have I, it seems like its out of place and like a friend has left it and just simply forgotten its there. But yet, it still somehow became my favourite thing hanging in that dark park box.
To the untrained eye, it may be mistaken for just some ordinary item in my inventory, but intact the collection of white lace is the only thing still keeping me alive. Because its him.
What once was a regular outfit of mine has become little more of a reminder of what I had and what's been lost. It's a constant voice in the back of my head, shoving what I could have had down my throat. Almost choking me with memories, good and bad, of my past with him.
I had worn it the day he left. The day that should have been one of the best. He was fine that morning and had never faltered with his outlook on us, until that afternoon.
I often wonder if something happened in the hour and thirty seven minutes we had separated in order for me to get ready. I'd like to think that I wasn't the reason he left and that it was someone else forcing him to... I think it's supposed to make me feel better about myself but in all honesty, if anything, it makes me feel worse.
Connor Ball - just you wait, you'll see his name in lights, that I have no doubt of. I cannot deny how unbelievably talented he was and still is. He didn't make the mistake of not using his talent either. . . His one mistake: leaving me.
I really did lose the love of my life that day. In a matter of minutes after we said hello he was already saying his final goodbye.
So why on earth, having lost him and developed a certain love-hate relationship with the White Lace, did I decided to wear it out tonight? And why oh why, did it have to attract the unwanted attention of a not so unknown face?
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A.N: if you couldn't tell this isn't finished, I published it by mistake, I will finish it eventually but for now its staying as it is as wattpad went let me unpublish it.... sorry....
Prittypixie xxx