she said nothing. and it said so much. the words fell away. and the truth was finally exposed.
the moment simmered. time deferring to flesh. a sharp mosaic of promise without a finish. just flawed lenses and broken bulbs. trying on our empty clothes.
plastic fingers pulling on the sun. painted irises churning on the whims of the weather.
the perfume of her memory. piquant as she tries to forget. the ghosts coalescing at the base of her spine.
the playwright in her breath. the actors in her fingertips. the winter stumbles. and we imagine there is a summer. maybe. eventually. there is.
she trusted her skin. even as they peeled it away. spending her like pennies in a fountain. the frivolous wishes of thieves and con men. still the structure withstood. the valiant rigor of bone and blood.
the miles solved. splinters of how. shards of when. the spoiled equations of coincidence. she wondered what now. all these greedy monsters. all these stubborn corpses. a debt that was never hers. still demanding payment..