midnight ramblings.

She twirls the dandelion in her hand, head tilted back, staring at the sky. Her hair drifts into her face and she shoves it away impatiently.
She returns her face to the photograph. Her eyes trace the picture of the person she knows so well. One, two, three. She flips the pages that were the only thing left of their "endless" conversations. She reads the words and glares at the promises and those at-the-time funny lines viciously and returns her attention to the dandelion.
She remembers the touch of his hand on her face, remembers the words he whispered to her. She remembers the soft, cradling hugs sharpening into just a way to reach, somehow. She remembers every broken promise, scattered in her mind like a shatterd peice of glass.
The moonlight gleams on the stalk of dandelion, and on the single tear rolling down her left cheek. She wipes away the tear and flings the dandelion back into the grass.