Listening to: Breaking Benjamin - Dance With The Devil.
Her.
I laugh the loudest, yet my heart is humourless.
I smile wide, but inside I am empty.
My thoughts are lost elsewhere and my eyes keep darting across the room.
Towards something that not only captivates my heart; it crushes it, too.
Now, I know that I am nothing to him. Probably even less than that.
This I have already accepted.
I am a nobody in his eyes.
But her..
That girl..
She is his everything. She somehow fulfils him.
He and her.
Are what he and I won’t ever be.
He shares with her all that he hides from me.
The deepest crevices of his soul are concealed from the world, yet those are the parts of him she knows best.
Why?
Why is that?
She is all that I am not.
While I smile, she scowls.
While I am overjoyed, she is sullen.
While I am sincere, she is cold and unkind.
Yet he loves her.
Bit by bit, I drift slowly away from the conversation that's happening around me until I am all but a shell.
I'm too ensnared by another.
Luckily nobody notices when I flinch at what I hear.
To listen him call her that, it aches.
To know that he refers to her as "Mine", stings.
'What makes her so special?' I want to ask.
But indeed, 'What gives me the right to ask?' is just as valid a point.
I watch as he puts his arm around her, and suddenly, my body feels lacking in warmth.
Nobody could possibly fathom the immense emptiness swirling within the pits of my heart in this moment.
I have had the feeling of those arms around me, too.
I have experienced the gentleness of those hands caress me, too.
Though everyone else has forgotten, and he pretends like it never existed, there was a time when we shared somewhat of a skinship.
It may have been but a fleeting moment, one that began and ended much too briskly for me, still, despite the lamentable evanescence of it all, I was never able to let it go.
Even now, reminiscing over that night, the remnants of my elation recollect and a girlish flush finds its way upon my cheeks.
Together, that night, we spun.
We swung, we twisted, we twirled to a song nobody could hear.
Two as one, we danced the devil's dance.
That day, and every after, I was prepared to give him all that I had.
Whatever it took to feel him under my touch, to feel his hand on the small of my back, like before.
To have him hold me, his broad shoulders protecting me, as he did then.
Like a child crying out for attention, I had been embarrassingly lucid.
I still am.
Letting out an ostentatious laugh, hoping to catch his eye.
Calling him by the name only I use, seeking his acknowledgement.
Subtly smiling and fluttering my lashes, all while trying my best not to overplay it.
I do all this, yet ultimately, I know it is futile.
At the end of the day, when he comes home, he comes home to her.
As his head hits the pillow and his eyes close shut, the one lying beside him and the one he pulls close will always be her.
When it's late at night and his mind drifts off to sleep, it's not me he dreams of.
It's her.
imagecredit: weheartit
Behind the Story
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