Crystal Heart

October 2, 2011
By writersheart DIAMOND, B., California
writersheart DIAMOND, B., California
50 articles 0 photos 7 comments

Portfolio Piece # - Memoir

I spent forever on the edge of a sunset.

I laugh, thinking back on it now. For all the complications, lies and secrets that flashed through the air, it never changed the image of a little girl, her golden hair blowing in the wind, holding in her hands a fragile cystal heart out to the boy who wouldn't take it.

The years passed, and I have long made my peace with it. Even when new bits of evidence and lies come to light, I work to retain my steady clam. Too long have my emotions turned to rage, to hate, to love, to sadness. I wish to be peaceful.

I lie on the grass now, my head against the boy who will not take my heart, smiling at the words he lets drop from his lips like honey. Every once in a while he says one that tastes particularly sweet, and he looks at me with confused eyes, blissfully unaware of the crystal heart I now hold out to him.

Regardless or not the circumstances involving this decision, he continues to sit by me, content to watch my heart rise and fall with the breath of my stomach. He will not take it from my hands and yet it is too much his now to place back now in my chest.

So I am faced with an awfully difficult decision. Should I give my heart to some one new, to that boy whose face peaked out from behind the sun in expressions I understood? Or shall I continue to sit peacefully on the edge of the sunset, wishing with all the hope my poor soul can muster that you will one day decide to nonchalantly pluck my heart from my hands in an act that would require no frills or decoration to create a feeling of such joy to convince my heart that you and you alone were the only good thing worth waiting for.

But time has come to pass, and their strong words of dissuasion work at my restless mind, pondering the nature of our relationship. They were crazy to think there was no danger of you falling in love with them when there was so much peril in falling in love with you. She laughed within the currents of my mind, her dark words beating holes inside of me until I had no choice but to let them out in a torrent, which she kindly hand-delivered into your arms. Of course you fell for her.

I am still faced with that dilemma of the very first day when you turned around and spoke simple words that sent me reeling over the edge. I remember that day. Almost every detail. I wish she had never asked nor heard of you from the very beginning, and I could now be skipping through carefree days with the wounds still fresh on my chest from where he would have carved out my heart. I missed the fire, but stayed hot in the frying pan.

An impenetrable void stays between me and happiness, for I have given every single cell of my being to my crusade for your heart, I no longer know how to make you fall in love with me. I never knew.

I watch those girls who put make-up on their faces, who effortlessly twirl those boys around their fingers. Those girls' souls have such less depth than mine, and yet I somewhere find within my depth an unearthly jealousy for the role that they play. For if I had but a quarter of their talents, you would be longing to sit beside my side. Wouldn't you?

We have laughed for more than some people get in a lifetime, and every single moment has been beautiful to me. Through all the heartbreak I have always known that the moment I see your face my world will click into view with this crazy simplicity. Your presence makes my crystalline heart all the more impenetrable. The brief flashes of thoughts untoward another boy stops frozen in its tracks, your glowing eyes watching me with their unbreakable boundaries.

Is it time to unfreeze these thoughts, shake your face from my mind? Is the beauty of our time together at an end? Could it possibly be worth it to stay? What might I lose if I leave?

Forgetful of the past, I turn towards to future. But where to go, where to go? What to choose, what to choose?

For a second I ponder. I breathe. My heart . . . my heart . . .

My heart.

She kisses my cheek, wipes away my tears and whispers, “No longer do you have to wait for that boy."

Oh, but I will.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book

Parkland Speaks

Smith Summer