Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A resounding yell through the closed lids of his pillowy face. I have found Her; His one. He thinks: Her back hurts. I will rub it. Her heart aches. I will ointment it. Her mind storms. I will calm it. She is dirty. I will clean Her body with soap from Her own dish.

Try to reach Her, Her see through glass veil of protection won't crumble. Out of arms reach, She will float amongst the screams and cries of Others to hold on! Grab my hand! Come take refuge here with dinners cooked and plans made.

She, not wanting to be put to shop for fixing, has ignored their compassionate conversations and sighs, tears welling up at the sight of Her prodded and poked by the unfairness of living and its seas of tears and the tiny boats of hope that carry its fallen victims across, drenched and shaking but alive against everything wanting them to have died during the whole thing. (falling apart).

She's got nothing left to give, She thinks as Her shining ship takes her, She'll jump out again to drown in the liquid of her lover. It's dark down there, with no waves to wash Her ashore.

She remembers him, cherries in her memory as She sinks down.

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