She always remembered this beautiful month. July, she would remember it with a smile... but she can't... She can't forget about those fateful days...
She was married. Little Gracie was married. So much hoping for that shooting star to pass and her wish was granted. Elijah was a good husband, a proper man. Grace would work in a flower shop, her happiness resided in her flowers and she wanted to share it with the world.
Her husband... he was very selfish. His darkness, his pain... he did not want to share them. He kept it all to himself. His justification? His beautiful lily was too frail to be his support beam. If there is someone that doesn't grasp the concept of "letting go", that is Elijah. One thinks that the words "We are sorry, we tried all but..." are easy to pronounce, but they are not... especially when you pass from pronouncing them to receiving them... His poor, poor Ariadna...
Our couple met by chance... Grace always went to the graveyard... There, the most beautiful marigolds growed. She was busy, picking her flowers when she saw that daunting figure strolling the graves. He stopped in one and delivered a beautiful bouquet; full of bellflowers, primroses and campanulas... He losed, he loves and he is grateful...
They fell in love a first sight... Perhaps he was desperate to end the cold.... Perhaps she wanted to share on a new level... But anyway, they married...
The nights turned out to be punishments... He was too cold. He was too distant... Sometimes, he was just tired. But every night was a torture she had to endure. She was all give, but no take... Grace always gave from the depth of her heart, but Elijah never answered in the same way. He was too shallow in expressing.
But behind all that ice, there was warmth. He would let it loose from time to time, but he preferred to remain safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment