Though she remains silent she knows.
The fickle light shining on grey mornings that mist over with illusions of apparent commitment.
The cake that was eaten repeatedly miraculously regenerates.
Sometimes taking on different flavours, sizes and textures.
She cannot compete with this and as the sparkle of defiance glints dangerously in her eyes she decides that she will not.
Something was always missing from her ingredients when it came to what he preferred his deserts to taste of and she spent the years searching a fruitless search for this unobtainable, almost impossible flavouring.
Worms. That what the elder folk referred to it as.
This unexplainable hunger that can never fulfilled.
The carrier always searching, always feasting, always casting wandering eyes over the type that she isn't/wasn't/never will be.
At night she cried.
Silent sobs shook her body for she was broken.
Seeking desperately for a means to locate all of the missing pieces and put herself back together.
She had found all but one of them.
The most precious.
She wondered what he was doing with it, uncertain of its safety.
Her mind ticked over thoughts of where it was placed.
At the bottom of some forgotten, dusty, spider web infested draw or whether it took pride of place in his glass cabinet.
In truth she was scared of the answer.
Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...