Tears of an Ocean

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Diane believes she has lost her love in the depths of the ocean. She contemplates her actions and what may have caused him to kill himself.

Submitted: March 11, 2008

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Submitted: March 11, 2008



Dianesat along the sides of a rock that came into contact with the cold, swooshing waters from the sea it stood by. The trauma that ran through the stone also vibrated throughher thinning body.
Unable to think straight of anything else, her thoughts were on Thomas. She pondered and pondered about her beloved man for what seemed like a century since she came to this ocean.
Thomas probably jumped into that ocean, engulfed in pure hatred.
Dianethought this to herself.
The youngwoman un-leaned herself from the large boulder and climbed on top it, on top of thehard coldsurface that felt like the true world.
Looking down from his short natural tower,Diane peered into the water beneath. The tide was rising.She wondered if the tears in the ocean were her own.
“Yes, they must be. They are my own. What other space could have been capable of holding that sorrow that pours from me? It would be none other than the ocean floor.”
A cold wave splashed against the rock once again. But the tide was high and a drop of the clear liquid landed on her forehead. It stopped at her left cheek. Taking her index finger, she slowly lifted it off her facial skin and put it into her mouth.
It tasted salty, like the taste of cheeks wet from mourning.
I must face my tears. One day, I might be able to. Tears make you feel good. After they burst from you, you feel relieved.
Thinking that, she peered down at the water that remained splashing.
I wish my tears would do the same for me. If it could change who I am, would it be worth it? Would I be free from this curse of a personality?
Her thoughts were overwhelming. The water splashed more and more as droplets touched her face. She turned herself around and looked up at the trees that soured aboveher. Trees are hard. They give you splinters, even though they provide you with shelter.
Was I like a tree to Thomas?
I gave him shelter and yet I hurt him, splintering him. What would it take to get away from my wooden self?
With that,Diane watched the trees fall beneath her view. Her lungs filled with her tears and her nostrils stung.
Shewatched as Thomas appeared, shocked and reaching forth with his hand, behind a curtain of rippling glass.

© Copyright 2018 June Lunare. All rights reserved.

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