Brave Love

Eleventh Hour

The last possible moment for doing something.

________________________

 

The clock strikes—

And Cinderella knows she has an hour left.

She dreams, perhaps, that this dance would last eternally.

She knows, definite, that it wouldn’t.

 

She looks at the person she dances with—

Sees the look in his eyes,

The smile on his face,

Falls a little more for his soul.

 

This was it—

This was her eleventh hour;

The hour she lives in,

The last hour of her dream.

 

This was it—

Her eleventh hour;

The hour she lived in,

The hour of her last dream.

 

And what could one do in a dream?

 

Hope—

And only hope—

That they wouldn’t wake;

And perhaps that was the only way

To mend a lovely mistake.

 

And in Love’s mistake,

She found

A lovely ache.

 

 

____________________

 

A/N: Very long chapter beware ;__;

Brave Love Chapter 11: Eleventh hour

[Xander]

 

I found a drowning comfort in sleep that I could not seem to wake from—and that was the slight chance of seeing an angel in my dreams.

The heavy weight of sleep was beautiful indeed, and it was something that I couldn’t leave behind when I move on to the waking world.

For some reason, be it nightmares or reality—

The moment he smiled, it would turn into a beautiful, beautiful dream.

And this, my current motivation to pull my consciousness away from empty sleep and wake into hell with a single angel, was the very reason I did not fling my alarm clock across the room.

It nine in the morning, and in about thirty minutes, I would see his smile.

Or so I hoped.

Let’s hope it’s not a sad smile.