Post by Jems on Feb 24, 2005 17:48:24 GMT -5
Disclaimer: An extremely short fiction that popped into my head when I was ill about a month ago. If you've been reading "Sometimes it's a Sad Song" and read my latest update you will get the relation to the fiction but it is not following the exact story line, for example Kate knowing what went on with Orlando and Keira in this one, is not the same as in "Sometimes..." Not proof read etc and yes, I know Kate and Orlando have gone on a "break" but I wrote this before they broke up, so meh! Wrote in the perspective of Kate and I don't own any of them most unfortunately, but hell if I owned Orlando i'd be far too busy to be writing fanfiction 
Hope you like and um..review! Me loves! 
This is dedicated to Hari, i'm not quite sure but it just is, mostly because she appeared to like it! So sweetie, thanks for being lovely and always making me write better as well as providing me with inspiration! Hell, I don't know what i'd do without your comments I really don't!
I see his face. Shadowed by the dark veil that cloaks him from the real world. Those eyes seep with painful regret as tears slide down flushed cheeks. They rest on trembling lips, spreading salty content across flesh. Orbs hold a longing. A dream that can never become a reality. A wish that cannot be fulfilled. But I must try. I must attempt to live up to his most possessed treasure, which he never speaks of.
I know longer know his face. The creased frowns, the weak, vulnerable body…the tears. He never used to cry, never isolated himself to loneliness. He is different now. She has changed him. The world of poison has welcomed him to painful memories. He does not regret, just mourns. Terror flows through his veins of me discovering the secret he shamefully tries to hide, but never succeeds. He does not know I unfolded the sudden need of my presence all too quickly.
They both cannot interlink with eye contact for distraught guilt only floods their senses as they drown pitifully in sorrow. When he thinks I am drifting in a peaceful slumber at night, he opens up his drawer. Fingers tenderly trace every inch of the silver necklace that rests so carefully in his hands. The one he bought for her. She returned it, and he found it replacing the spot where her head should have belonged after that night. That special night.
And I realise as his body moves within mine, eyelids closed whilst tears creep from underneath, that he is thinking of her. In his mind he is making love to her and the only reason he bites his lip so hard when he lets go, is to prevent himself from calling her name.
I can no longer see his face. Emotions have clotted too much for me to recognise him as he sails to heaven in that moment of shuddering bliss and sees her. Only her. The tears have gone now but the soulful eyes still remain as they open. He connects to my lips lovingly. I only wish the love was for me.
Soon he sleeps, breath evening out beside me. I lie awake, tracing the contours of his face. He murmurs in his sleep. I don’t even clutch onto the single word bracing his lips as it rolls of his tongue, for I already know the name he speaks of.
He dreams a peaceful fantasy, one in which he is with her, with one with her. Content breath is soft and steady, a comforting lulling sensation that soars from his skin all the way to the velvet lining of the sky. I know that when he retires from this world to the one where the living does not know of, that his heart can then speak plainly. For on his heart is engraved a name. A name that is cherished and loved by his soul so willingly, that whenever his thoughts turn to her it can be seen dangling by the thinnest thread. It’s precious, oh so precious. Delicate and fragile. It’s everlasting love and even if she does not take it, he will never lose his admiration for her. He is hers, even though she may not be aware of it. She’s always in his heart. The feeling is eternal. Endless. Forever. If the emotion could be mutual, then he could be happy...smile a true smile that doesn't engulf the pure guilt he tries not to surrender to. He is no longer my Orlando...he never really was. Yet we still pretended. He will always belong to someone else. Long for someone else.
He mutters in his sleep, body twisting awkwardly as he turns over and hides beneath the covers just like my soul, which digs itself into a deep pit that it knows it cannot escape from. I do not know him anymore. I do not recognise the face of beauty that radiates so wonderfully. Orlando is merely a stranger...a stranger lost in a world sorrow.
Hope you like and um..review! Me loves! 
This is dedicated to Hari, i'm not quite sure but it just is, mostly because she appeared to like it! So sweetie, thanks for being lovely and always making me write better as well as providing me with inspiration! Hell, I don't know what i'd do without your comments I really don't!Stranger lost in a world of sorrow.
I see his face. Shadowed by the dark veil that cloaks him from the real world. Those eyes seep with painful regret as tears slide down flushed cheeks. They rest on trembling lips, spreading salty content across flesh. Orbs hold a longing. A dream that can never become a reality. A wish that cannot be fulfilled. But I must try. I must attempt to live up to his most possessed treasure, which he never speaks of.
I know longer know his face. The creased frowns, the weak, vulnerable body…the tears. He never used to cry, never isolated himself to loneliness. He is different now. She has changed him. The world of poison has welcomed him to painful memories. He does not regret, just mourns. Terror flows through his veins of me discovering the secret he shamefully tries to hide, but never succeeds. He does not know I unfolded the sudden need of my presence all too quickly.
They both cannot interlink with eye contact for distraught guilt only floods their senses as they drown pitifully in sorrow. When he thinks I am drifting in a peaceful slumber at night, he opens up his drawer. Fingers tenderly trace every inch of the silver necklace that rests so carefully in his hands. The one he bought for her. She returned it, and he found it replacing the spot where her head should have belonged after that night. That special night.
And I realise as his body moves within mine, eyelids closed whilst tears creep from underneath, that he is thinking of her. In his mind he is making love to her and the only reason he bites his lip so hard when he lets go, is to prevent himself from calling her name.
I can no longer see his face. Emotions have clotted too much for me to recognise him as he sails to heaven in that moment of shuddering bliss and sees her. Only her. The tears have gone now but the soulful eyes still remain as they open. He connects to my lips lovingly. I only wish the love was for me.
Soon he sleeps, breath evening out beside me. I lie awake, tracing the contours of his face. He murmurs in his sleep. I don’t even clutch onto the single word bracing his lips as it rolls of his tongue, for I already know the name he speaks of.
He dreams a peaceful fantasy, one in which he is with her, with one with her. Content breath is soft and steady, a comforting lulling sensation that soars from his skin all the way to the velvet lining of the sky. I know that when he retires from this world to the one where the living does not know of, that his heart can then speak plainly. For on his heart is engraved a name. A name that is cherished and loved by his soul so willingly, that whenever his thoughts turn to her it can be seen dangling by the thinnest thread. It’s precious, oh so precious. Delicate and fragile. It’s everlasting love and even if she does not take it, he will never lose his admiration for her. He is hers, even though she may not be aware of it. She’s always in his heart. The feeling is eternal. Endless. Forever. If the emotion could be mutual, then he could be happy...smile a true smile that doesn't engulf the pure guilt he tries not to surrender to. He is no longer my Orlando...he never really was. Yet we still pretended. He will always belong to someone else. Long for someone else.
He mutters in his sleep, body twisting awkwardly as he turns over and hides beneath the covers just like my soul, which digs itself into a deep pit that it knows it cannot escape from. I do not know him anymore. I do not recognise the face of beauty that radiates so wonderfully. Orlando is merely a stranger...a stranger lost in a world sorrow.
