The world in her hands was fragile. Its lines, became dots, its shell became water. In her hand it melted, in her hands it ceased to exist. She remembers it once, when it was whole..when her finger traced its bold borders, when her eyes saw it all.
But now, all she sees is them, when she blinks, its them, and when she breathes, its them. She chases a dream, a beautiful dream..one that speaks when her words run out, one that listens when her pained heart weeps, one that she could taste in the salt of her tears..it’s always there, and they’re always there..in every corner..to trip her when she’s close, to mock her when she falls, to block her when she gets up again..they’re always there, waiting, to mend her scraped knee, to kiss the pain away, only to bruise the other.
But amidst all that, they never saw..when the dream became her and she became it.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
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