Sunday 3/14/2010 12:48:00 AM

Overtures in dusk. The pallor of her skin. Not content to trust. The small eyes the world would offer. The machine on her wrists. Turning. Coldly burning the fuel. Of splitting stitches. The when. Proving otherwise. I was. Am not. Soldier on the plateau of if. This war was ours to end.

Turning the clock back. I see so much blood. The scabs pulling away from certain flesh. The monster charming the child. In candy words. And broken promises. The monster. Selling windows to the blind.

I see.

The fallen ladder. The door on her back. Coming open. Widows on the porch. Discussing dead husbands. Captains with their foot on the clutch. Letting them pass.

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