The wind blows furiously against her window panes, but the sun shines brightly in her sky. The weatherman whispers warnings in the background, but her ears aren't listening. She goes to her garage and grabs her shovel and her hoe. Her neighborhood is teaming with life as she begins to dig. She doesn't think she can be beautiful, but she figures at least she can be responsible for the creation of something beautiful. Everyone takes what she says, and twists it in there mind so that they understand. They make her seem sad, and ask her what's wrong. Sure she's sad, but she doesn't let it get to her, but don't get me wrong, she's not the happiest either. She moves the dirt beneath her fingers as she laughs at the irony of her life. So much beauty surrounds her, so much darkness lies within.

The neighbor hood is a little more than shocked to see her; muddy black hair against placid white skin. It has been the first time they have really seen her for more than ten minutes. They all stare in wonder at her site. Not because she is beautiful, or anything of that matter, they stare because before they weren't sure she was real. The spoiled little girl they talked about was outside, without her parents around to spoil her. Her pretty, little, perfectly manicured nails gouging into the ground, dirt covering the blood red of her polish. She thinks about how many times she said she hated him. She thinks about all the times she knew she was lying to herself. She loves him. And she hates that.

The storm the weather man warned to deaf ears approaches. The wind picks up, the sky gets darker, but she just keeps digging. Digging. Digging a hole deeper and deeper. Delving into the depths of her soul, looking for some kind of hope she could possibly still hold within her. Everything went so wrong, but everything feels so right in his arms. She's so safe in his arms…so secure. His warmth burned the ice off of her heart. When his eyes locked in her eyes, locked in my eyes, the world didn't matter anymore. Every time he comes around nothing matters, there isn't anything I have to worry about. I can feel I will always be safe in his arms…

Save tonight,

Come tomorrow,

Save tonight until the break of dawn,

Come tomorrow,

Tomorrow I'll be gone.

Tomorrow there will be nothing left of her happiness. There will be no joy left over that the rush of being responsible for beauty gave her. Her tomorrow is so fragile, breakable. She wants to feel sunlight on her skin. She wants to see the clouds disappear; she wants warm weather and laughter. She wants good times that flow like the words in her favorite songs. She wants to be so care free she feels like she could fly. She doesn't want any of this to matter. She just wants it to be you and her forever and ever. She wants green leaves and sunflowers, she wants love and freedom. She wants to feel the wind in her hair, and beads of humidity on a cold glass of lemonade. She only wants to be free. So she digs, hoping that with every thing she plants brings summer just a little closer. Brings my dream just a little bit closer to my grasp.