#sheyreen's

[sheyreen]

How can you look at someone you love, and know you wouldn't spend the rest of your life with them?

[sheyreen]

As Usual, A Fake Smile

He does not know how much what he said hurts her. How can he, when she does not tell? But she does not want to weigh him down. She does not want him to be careful with his words, and leave many things unsaid. She does not want him to be uneasy around her. She does not want him to see her as a weakling, as a burden. Yet she is hurt, very hurt, and she wishes he'd know.

[sheyreen]

He was cursed.

The Prince had the brain and the charm, a special entity tailored for the throne.

Yet he fell for a girl who spent all the nights before tonight to rid of dust—the dust enters her breath into her bloodstream, and settles in her brain and her heart. She was the girl with dusty skin and worn grey eyes, Cinderella.

The Witch had poisoned his heart—he watched it rot with every second he passed with her. Under the illusion that he's only alive when he was with the girl, while all she wanted was to run from all the dust, to the scandalous blink of the finer things in life.

Ah, the worst part of the story?

She fell for him. Knowing he was invested by the vile curse that clouded his mind in black mist; yet still falling for his brilliance and lovestruck eyes.

She knew the spell will end when the clock strikes twelve.

His cursed eyes saw through her facade and he took her heart, holding her flighty spirit in place.

In a waltz that lasts all night, to the grand music that reverberates through tall pillars, in the bask of golden chandelier light, through the enchanted crowd—she clung onto him with every twirl of borrowed gown.

His love would've been for any girl whom the Witch chooses; still she greedily savored his warmth.

Before midnight she would present his grand fake love with the grandest betrayal.

That way perhaps a flicker of her memory will remain after the spell ends.