Fly Away, Baby
One and Lonely.
The tears raced down Heather’s cheeks, staining her porcelain skin with streaks of black. How could this be happening? He can’t be dead, he just can’t, she thought to herself.
“There’s been an accident,” she said when she hung up the phone; the look on her mother’s face was enough for her to know someone was hurt, badly.
“Who?” Heather asked looking back at her.
“Michael,” she said before her voice broke.
“No,” came Heather’s strangled reply, before she fell to her knees.
Her world was crumbling around her, everything she’s ever known ripped out from under her. Michael was everything, he was the love of her life, and she knew it. How did he go? She wondered. Was it quick, painless, or did he have to wait and beg for death to come?
She hoped it was the first.
Her thinking didn’t slow down her running; it was as if she had no control over her legs. Even in her clunky boots and short skirt she still managed to speed through the run down streets, past all the chain link fences, dark alleys, and abandoned buildings. She runs blinded by tears in the early hours of the morning, going nowhere in particular. Finally her burning lungs can’t take it anymore, she breaks down into sobs beside an empty building ravished by graffiti.
“Why him, God, why him?” she cried to the bright grey sky, “He was too good, too good for me. Why didn’t you take me instead? I’m the fuck up!”
She banged her fists on the pavement in frustration, or maybe it was desperation. Either way, it could never bring Michael back. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds the broken girl stood. She looked up to the sky and wondered if he was watching over her right at that moment, she hoped he was. She shut her eyes tightly and wished that she could just fly away.
She wished that one day she would see Michael again.
Now she’s walking home with her clunky boots and short skirt, and she hears that little voice inside her head.
Fly away, baby. Just fly away.
“There’s been an accident,” she said when she hung up the phone; the look on her mother’s face was enough for her to know someone was hurt, badly.
“Who?” Heather asked looking back at her.
“Michael,” she said before her voice broke.
“No,” came Heather’s strangled reply, before she fell to her knees.
Her world was crumbling around her, everything she’s ever known ripped out from under her. Michael was everything, he was the love of her life, and she knew it. How did he go? She wondered. Was it quick, painless, or did he have to wait and beg for death to come?
She hoped it was the first.
Her thinking didn’t slow down her running; it was as if she had no control over her legs. Even in her clunky boots and short skirt she still managed to speed through the run down streets, past all the chain link fences, dark alleys, and abandoned buildings. She runs blinded by tears in the early hours of the morning, going nowhere in particular. Finally her burning lungs can’t take it anymore, she breaks down into sobs beside an empty building ravished by graffiti.
“Why him, God, why him?” she cried to the bright grey sky, “He was too good, too good for me. Why didn’t you take me instead? I’m the fuck up!”
She banged her fists on the pavement in frustration, or maybe it was desperation. Either way, it could never bring Michael back. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds the broken girl stood. She looked up to the sky and wondered if he was watching over her right at that moment, she hoped he was. She shut her eyes tightly and wished that she could just fly away.
She wished that one day she would see Michael again.
Now she’s walking home with her clunky boots and short skirt, and she hears that little voice inside her head.
Fly away, baby. Just fly away.
♠ ♠ ♠
Not my best, comments?