The End.

It was forever ago. Maybe a lifetime- or possibly a different one in its entirety. During the spell when night and day reversed and sleeplessness owned routine. He was her intrigue, everything about him. And she was to him more or less than will ever be revealed or recognized. He stepped with mystery, clasped his hands tightly together but only held the suffocating air of emptiness. Oh, those eyes- icey, chilling, but not quite frozen- annihilating boundaries. When they crumbled, her heart felt boundless, total freedom exhilarated the atmosphere. A frenzied flame to her naivety. Hind-sighting, the only view is half- nothing is full- the picture imprinted onto the ravines of her soul is half of a smile, half of a heart... a clear division of the outer and the inner. An unhappy mind in a place of joyous occasion is a doomed concoction of misery and misunderstanding. But what was replaying in that mind? Those eyes? Questioning herself, puzzle piecing together the very minutia that entailed her being; perhaps it was her. The quest to complete his smile ensued. Regrettably. Pointlessly. The secrets that inevitably lay within the sunken corner of his mouth unnerved her to the core- mystery waged its war inside her mind and the aftermath was cruel. But, the truth is, only half of his heart was ever placed in her small, inexperienced hands. Some would think this a sad story, I agree- it was. They stamped any togetherness with finality and titled it~ The End. Things end, that isn't bad... it's only tragic when a finality lays claim to an unknown, unsettled corridor of the human heart.