Sunday, July 25, 2010

Cinderella in Converse.

She's listened to every love song there is and hates them all. CD's scattered everywhere, and her Converse are in shambles in the corner, gathering dust. Out the window she looks, and there he is, the boy she's willing to spend eternity with. He's got that girl with the blond hair that flies back in the wind and pink manicured nails on the front of his bike, and she thinks about the days when they were five, wandering the block on cruiser bikes, living the life, before this tragic mess.
They ride away and she sits up to look herself straight in the eye in the mirror.
Stringy dull brown hair, with a nose she can't decide is cute or weird, and eyes that hide behind her glasses and her fear.
He'll never know how many tears she's cried, and the thousand of times she's lied when she said "I'm fine" when all she wanted to do was run into her room and rip her heart out, keep it from ever breaking or hurting like this again. The problem was that it wasn't hers to break; it was his. And he's broken it so many times before, that she's lost count.
She was no Cinderella, or Little Miss Perfect flirting him up on his handle bars.
She was the girl next door. Falling Hard. With no one to catch her, or replace the little glass slipper.
All she had was some old fading memories and a pair of dusty Converse. He'd never lace that shoe up on her foot and sweep her off her feet into a fairy tale.
But Lord knows that was all she asked for out of life...
It was endless.
Her heart was his.
And he would never know.

Wrote this because of this set I made on Polyvore. Getting some pretty cool ideas now, but it's midnight so love you all.

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