The world had been filled so effortlessly with the cadence of stilling hearts, tearless mourning seeping into the hairline fracture that earthquakes couldn’t crack.
Her plight was one of simple regret, nesting in the dry twine curling at the base of her heart with wingless fluttering carving retold stories on the walls. She was etched in poetry, the spoken word of deceit shrouding her like an aged quilt. The cotton strands were catching her around the neck like a noose, choking her in instances where memory appeared.
She had the means to cut them off.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself instead.
They had a tale, a secret loveletter that extended its pages until they were bound with permanence and infirmity alike. It started and ended with an epilogue, a memoir of sorry tries and hardened maybes. The pages were filled with bylines of love, love, and more love and the sappy stories lacked sustainability.
Her elegy was his love song. Composed with misled lines of straightness and deterrence, they wrote apart and together, losing keep of their edges until her Dear, dear heart melded with his We had it once, swirling in ink stains with a final publication of They were.
Bared without clothes, clothed without bones, they drew the syllables from each other with the intent to burrow the niceties deep in the folds of heartache neither of them was capable to admit.
He loved her until the sky burned coppery coral then let her go from the cupped hands that cradled her moth-winged heart into the quilted northern lights. Her unwept demons stayed behind and pulled his eyelids shut and pawed at his fingers until he threw her crisp satires in cursive script that wound itself in netted enchantment.
She was no sooner gone into the peaceful lullaby of the night when he caught her with chords of mischief and a childlike empowerment. That twinkling wonderment stilled her flight but couldn’t give her descent. Her hurried memo of apologies and lingering affection were sent with the stardust by a wavering hand catching the final light of his sunny lovelight as the night drew her further away.
This is fact, not fiction, for the first time in years.
(because we need an update here. pee-ess: does anyone know where the last line came from?)