bittersweet symphony
(made of bitter dreams and sweet regrets)
1: just like the sea
Sometimes, in the darkest time of the night, she will sit in her tiny bed with the window open. She can hear the cars rushing by stories below her apartment, and sometimes she can hear Percy's tiny breaths on the pillow beside her. Her fingers drift down and caress his tiny head, so soft with curling black hair. It is not her hair; her hair is plain and brown. No, he has his father's hair...so lustrous, black as the darkest ocean trench.
She watches the breeze ruffle the baby's hair, sees his little hands reaching for something, clutching thin air desperately. She slides a finger into his hand and he relaxes, his tiny body softening as though he has found something dear to him at last. She will lean down to kiss him, and she smells the baby powder and the soap she used in his bath.
She also smells the sea; she can almost taste the salt on the breeze...
She hears the waves crashing against the shore, and she feels warm arms strong and steady around her waist. Long, deep breaths brush the hairs on the nape of her neck, and a bold aquiline nose nuzzles her skin gently. She is content to lay in the sand, and she has never seen so many stars...his hand brushes against her waist, and without knowing exactly how, she is aware of a tiny little life nestled inside of her. The surf wafts against her toes, and a warm sea breeze washes over her bare body...
And then a siren blares, and she is back again; she is trapped in this run-down apartment in the seediest part of New York, and there are no strong arms around her waist, no steady breaths, no skin brushing against hers. Her toes are clad in socks and very dry, and her thin nightgown clings to her body. She hugs the tiny boy next to her close to her breast, and she feels his breath splash across her skin.
It is at times like these, when she comes to know all that she's lost, that she allows herself to cry.
And her tears tasted just like the sea...