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Grass

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It was grass, gentle and green, that swayed around her ankles. She wanted nothing more than to be the grass, to feel nothing but wind and rain and sunshine. She felt a gently need for the grass; it sang to her. She saw it behind her eyes, a beacon of freedom and peace. She wanted to be free of remembering, free of heartache.
The grass sand her a lullaby that put her into a trance. It was in this state that she left her house; she sat in the grass and pretended. She pretended to be grass, green and delicate and free. She swayed in the wind and forgot. She forgot everything: her house, her family, her pain. The Earth fell away in that moment leaving only an empty field reflecting the insides of an empty girl.
As the blue sky faded into purple and the temperature dropped, the girl sat in the empty field. She continued to sway in the wind hoping that if she stayed long enough she could become the grass; she would die in the winter only to be born again in the spring. She hoped, and in that hope, she found herself remembering. She had escaped her grassy prison and did not know wether to celebrate.
The girl sat and no longer forgot her heartache. She remembered him. She climbed into her memory digging up pieces she had shoved into corners. She pictured him in her mind every detail perfect. He was giving her the look, the one that said, "You're mine, and no one can ever take you away from me." The friendly gray of his eyes was warm and inviting; they demanded her attention. in her memory, he hugged her close. His arms held her against his chest; it was as if he would never let her go. Her nose was pressed against the skin at the base of his neck; she knew his scent and found it comforting. How she remembered his lips that enticed her. He kissed her, and she felt the icy tingle of his minty chapstick. Now she thought of his hands, comforting and strong. His hand held her own as they took a walk at sunset. She remembered his carefree laugh and the joy it brought her. She remembered being happy and ignorant, completely in love; she smiled.
The last thing she remembered was his back, his back that she saw walking away from her. She had watched him walk away after he broke up with her. She remembered his walk, calm and steady. She remembered the way his jeans clung to his hips and hugged him in all the right places before draping over his black shoes. She remembered the set of his shoulders and how high he held his head. She remembered and she broke.
The girl came out of her trance crying. It was dark and cold and only the grass was left, gentle and green. The grass was wet with dew as if it, too, was crying. The girl now knew that she could never be grass. At the end of the day, there was never an escape from tears, for even nature cried at night.





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