She’s got fragile emotions and porcelain skin. She’s more than a pretty girl and her spirit’s outgrown its host. She’s a doll. Her name’s Elena.
I was tired. There was silence. Enough was said. We reconnected.
Shaded beneath an old tree, I ran my fingers through the grass and Elena twisted her green necklace. She broke our silence.
“Someday, I hope you find a person you really connect to,” She said “Someone you can go out with and, like, do everything.”
“Thanks.” I replied; And with a hopeless longing on my tongue, I reverted to memory.
Ruben gazed through our infernal orchestra and we locked eyes. I had faith. Now he’s gone and I’m back in the crowd.
I lost my grip. I sought consolation from a fool.
She said: “We’ll find you another man”.