Behind dimpled cheeks hides the evidence of a girl that is broken beyond repair. She lifts that bottle to her lips at night praying that one more swig will take the pain away. The pills she pops are wrapped in Novacain; numbing her emotions. Her canvas used to be filled with pretty pictures, the colors vibrant. There were big lovely homes and white puffy clouds and the sun was shining brighter than ever. Now all that's left are shades of gray. The homes are no longer homes; just houses. The white puffy clouds have been turned into storm clouds, and the sun is nowhere to be found.
There was her, there was him, and at one point, there was them. He had a role in her big magnificent play, but he died in the first act. She yelled and cursed at the director, stating he was perfect for the part of Romeo. But the director couldn't see past his stone cold face like she could. She played the role of Juliet, drinking her fair share of poison. The director noticed a change in her, watching the alcohol sink into her lips. So he replaced her with ease.
A great actress, that's what she was. She played every role flawlessly from that point on, fooling even the best critics with her booming voice and plastered on smile. At night, she was left in bed with her thoughts, and her fabulous acting career was put aside. That's when thoughts of him raced through her mind. She called to him... "Romeo, Romeo, where for ought thou Romeo?" But Romeo was nowhere to be found. All she had left was one memory, one scene with him. So she took another swig of her poison.