Oona

For the umpteenth time Oona stared out of the window. Quintessentially lost. The remaining part of the night looked like a quagmire she wished not to untangle. Twirls of smoke hung in the air, between patches of darkness and smoke, the mirror wouldn't recognize her. She blew on the window pane, wrote random letters. Random letters.

She loved not a vampire. Oona loved a man, almost fatally. The night echoed with pangs of this furious love. She battled brutal truths, till her last breath. Hung to hope, and then killed it herself. Trapped herself in the vicious cycle of loving and hating the same man. Oona loved a man, who couldn't love her back. That was the caveat. Caveat.

As the night deepened, all she did was wait. Nothing but wait. Wait has a venomous bite. It's a slow poison for the spirit. Every minute that passed by, killed Oona a li'l more than the last. Fatal love takes a toll. Unrequited love. Unrequited.

The man, he has long fingers. She knew by heart the shape of his nails, when he did away with stray strands of hair from her face before a kiss. He had an aroma that sat between her nostrils, it never left her alone. Never.

Her eyes began to burn, sleepless and loveless. Buried in smoke, it wasn't her in the mirror anymore. Cold and numb, she pushed the windows open. There wasn't a storm outside. All her thoughts paused at the very thought of the man. He was etched deep within her, she fed him her sorrow and made sure he lived there.

Yet, not much of the night had passed. Has passed.