roseandmask
carvings on the tree, shredded like paper sleeves. you and I remain, beyond forever the tear in the wood cuts beneath and the peeled bark bleeds from the strength of our love.
swish swish the sound of the skirt rubbing against the washing board on the bank of the river. this is how we used to wash clothes, she said. this is how i remember them washing clothes on the aqua plastic bending over crookedly.
slippery. the face twists into a smile that warms the room of its pallor. everywhere you look there are smiles on the faces of wrinkled ladies and perfumed lips and the smiles twist to become more sincere.
how will we discover magic? the wisp of light that seeps from the ancient oak entwines us both in its history. how can beauty exist in the musty earth?
swooping down to tackle the grass. invisible to your eyes the rabbit crouches, waiting, seemingly unsuspectingly but dashes away into the forest green, leaving a tear of blurry white on the lawn.
her eyes were like starlight. the word was beautiful, in the most un-cliched way as the ceiling dissolved and sprinkled on her skin, glowing like the dust swirling in the distance of the aurora.
you can train yourself not to think. everything comes with time. meditation is a god given right to oneself, solitude is sacred and shall be kept quietly within, a secret to be trained, practised until made into perfection.
the smell of it is intoxicating, she says while shopping for her husband in the airport store. she holds a piece of animal felt to her nose and inhales deeply, reminded of that summer in the field when the cows roamed.
wrapped in the scent of the footsteps you left behind on the kitchen floor, I wipe the counters with trepidation and look above to see the pieces of ceiling peel off and land in the flowerpots.
i bow to you resigned. my hand outstretched in a platitude. forgiveness, you will never know. my hands outstretched will never be enough for the world's mystery to take me in under the wings.
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