A short story.

Her.

Her heart was a museum in ruins. She had enough of people and places. Hers was a rainbow through the storm. She soar through whirlwinds of time. Her life was an ocean of wonders that were yet to be discovered. She may failed a lot. And believe me when I say that she took all the lessons from it. She hardly manage to stand from her fallback, but she did. She lived. She lived with all the pages of history. She embraced every scar on her skin. Her wounds were too much to be healed. Now he watered it with words that kill. He nurtured the wound that was yet to be healed. He let it go wounded each day with his soft handful of words. It was a scar of yesterday that turned out to be a wound again.

He kissed her with memories. Memories that lingered for so long that it wouldn’t heal the wounded scars. He has his sweet way of revenge for hurting and she didn’t see it coming. Maybe she deserve it for failing from the past. Is this the fruit of the past that she has to enjoy today? She doesn’t know how to feel anymore. His words resound the love that he profess but he stabbed her at the very same moment. He said he love her yet he need to kill her. He’s slowly killing her so that he can survive.

He finds it hard to accept her. He finds it hard to see her as she is. He finds it hard to embrace her scars. He asked her why and expects her to speak the right words to answer. Then why? Why did he stay? Why did he want her still? Why did he want her and kill her each day? Is it because he’s hurting? Why does he find it hard to accept her scars but want her at the same time? Why does he want her to die daily? Is it because he can’t live with it that’s why he needs to kill her softly and slowly? Is this the love that he wanted to give her? If it is, why did he want her still just to kill her?

If this is love, why does it smells death? If this is love, why does it haunts her? If this is love, why does it keep her from healing? If this is love, is it worth it? Is it worth dying just to comfort his very soul? Because if it is, then it’ll be her pleasure to be stabbed all over again for him. She allowed him. Yes. She allowed him to stab her to live. She has to live with it. She thinks she deserve that kind of love because she’s got wounds. Wounds that are yet to be healed. She had scars. And it became wounds. Again. She loves him. She loved him enough. Enough for her to die.