Like the ocean

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Isabelle Lightwood was like the ocean.

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She had blue eyes that mixed with gray, much like the sea through a storm.

She changed like the ocean, moods shifting like the weather, with a simple touch.

She moved with a simple grace, like the curling of waves.

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She was enchanting, and carried burdens like the sea carried ships.

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Isabelle cried like the ocean too.

Unstoppable tears, flowing constantly, she could've created the oceans salty waves.

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Especially recently, when she acted like an outgoing current,

Pulling, sliding, drifting away.

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You could see the sand trying to hold onto the ocean.

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Her pillows held the water, constantly damp. They were like sponges, soaking up her tears night after night.

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Isabelle had the needy side of the sea as well.

Needing to move.

Needing to feel.

Needing to be held.

The last was her own, her own passionate need for something he wasn't allowed to give.

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She changed, from her innocent and easy going self, the her that was calm water, to someone that was determined to fall and stay down, like a tall wave crashing.

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Isabelle was crashing, so hard and so quickly.

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She was that tiny note in a bottle, travelling across the ocean.

Her feelings were written across her face, but no one could read them.

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She was as empty as the shells on the bottom of the seabed

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Oh, how she wanted – needed – someone to notice.

How she craves the comfort of a warm hand.

But Isabelle Lightwood doesn't have a weakness – left alone have one.

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She was blue, she felt blue.

That deep, dark blue. Just like the ocean.

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so bored, so tired, so much writing lately.

I don't own TMI.

R&R (;