Of Empty Dreams And Secrets

• Christine Ong, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2009

Silence – save for the seconds ticking off the clock. Darkness – broken only by the light escaping from the open doorway.
She – without a sound – made her way across to the peacefully sleeping figure on the couch, and knelt beside it.
Peaceful... she mused, smiling ruefully. Peaceful is the last place I’d look to find this girl resting.
Sitting back, she took a moment to let all the thoughts untangle themselves. A history of pain, abandonment and rejection. A life of longing, need and love. How much more? How much more did she need to go through?
She took in the sight that lay before her. Pale white skin, wrapped around those once cut, but left unscarred wrists. The very same skin that gave her once tearstained cheeks that contrast with her soft, dark hair. Hair that remains neglected, unnoticed, unimportant.
Lifting a hand to brush back stray strands of hair, gently holding one side of her face.
”Let me save you, Anne. Trust me to be there with you every single step of the way.” she whispered. “I want to be the one you reach out to, I want to be the one you dream of. I want to be the one that loves you. I know so much more than you think I do, I understand more than you think I understand. I will protect you. Let me, because I love you.”
Ringing silence. Drawing back, standing up. Making her way back to the room filled with all that she was never let to know. She paused for a second, before closing the door. Paused, and turned, just once, to look back on a moment that would never come again. The dream that escaped her lips, she knew, was one that would never become reality.
Closing her eyes, closing the door.
And the figure sleeping on the couch remained unawakened. Breathing steadily, dreaming of her secrets, unbeknownst to the world.