i don't believe you. you're most difficult to read at the best of times. your words are raw and unpracticed. this is not what my heart needs right now. my mind is quick, draws conclusions you need not spell out. i know too much.
athletic frame draped in silk, a second skin, waits for fabric to warm. perfume is absorbed into the fibres, starting to take own its shape. the dress is packed up already coming alive with its new owner.
the wind is chilly, sou'wester skimming in, fresh from ice and snow. tentative touch to the mirror - it's freezing, could shatter with pressure. outside, the concrete is slick with ice. the setting sun's easy to miss.
there's a thorn on the rose you left in a vase. it's as sharp as it looks. jabbed my finger on the prickle trimming the stem. new water, and done. there's a card i have yet to read. maybe later - i hope you will stay.
delicate pink shells are scattered across the sand - shatter in one step. condensation beads on the glass bottle as the sun beats down on us. wind whips sand up as greedy-eyed birds appear. (food's less edible).
seventeen chapters through, and the doorbell goes off: almost irate now. tall stack of books by the bed keep you amused at any time of day. various capers run through the pages, until the book is closed; done.
if you please, she says. coy. she ruffles her hair and flutters her eyelids. don't tease, she scolds. stern. she twists around, angles her body just so, and scowls. she tenses, her whole body stiff with annoyance. anger; detonates.
collaboration of music through headphones makes it sound like rain's here. drumbeat excites a tempo that transcends normal volume, takes its place. karma, i decide, for letting the music and weather intertwine.
to my chagrin there's an old email waiting for me, dating back years. prudent to wait, i think. after this long, it can only end with joy. write back a reply, slow: edit and reshape then hover over send.
the coil of wire shrinks, folded up as the door shuts blocking out the sun. warm air swirls in through a window, left open as fresh baking cools down. pastries are served up on a purple plate, chipped at one edge, and tea's poured.