Seven

It’s still there,
but it’s deep, so so deep.
It’s a passion, it’s an ache,
and for some funny reason,
I can’t seem to put my finger on what it is.

She screams at me, just raw, naked screaming,
all bloody and wet,
saliva spraying on my body.

And she clenches her fists so hard
the bones burst out of the skin of her knuckles
like explosions, rainbows,
jets spurt,
and her forehead creases with concern.
Her eyes drop and her face breaks up,
sobbing against me.

Why does she do this to me,
and scream apologies.
Scrapes her knees bloody and raw in the dirt,
and tears the front of my dress with her slick, red fists.

She can’t sit through a lesson, why does she take up another,
and another, and another?
How will she go through this all over again,
thinking she can show me,
show the world,
with canvas upon canvas upon canvas.
She tenses up every single time,
and she fights back tears.
And her skin flushes
- so many colours.

It’s too long, much too long to even contemplate.
I don’t know what she thinks.
I dust off each canvas,
every morning,
hoping to find some clue.
I saw it reflected in her eyes one night,
as the sun went down,
slow and wet.
All sound was blocked out,
all concentration and wonder,
focused -

It’s a million different colours, spraying up,
midnight blue and sea green,
turquoise and yellow,
deep oranges and reds,
magenta and fuschia.
Spraying over the horizon.
Painting the sky, so far up that she cranes her head
all the way back,
it’s just her in this moment,
her and the colours.
And the lights dance on her face,
and at the borders of her corneas,
there was something else…

I choked and vomited all night,
my eyes wide open and my face as pale as the rising moon.

I will never know for sure what she sees, and I will never, ever know what she feels, every second of the day.

Terrible, raw beauty, whatever it is, it’s fire and destruction and passion, there aren’t words, there never will be.

How does the rest of the world compare? What does she see when she glances at her reflection? Does she even look at herself anymore?

How could she?

This entry was written on July 19, 2007 by Mandy. It is about/includes mentions of I worked out how to use the "More" Tag!, possibilities, truth. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.