She didn’t say anything.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
But she had.
She just couldn’t hear her.
She had always heard her through her heart, and now it was frozen to her cheeks.
“Can we just lie here for a moment? She knows what to do and it’s so much easier to make out the words if you press your ear against the stone.”
He hated this place. But she promised it would be the last time.
And it had started to snow. It would hopefully slow the others down.
he didn’t look up
he was afraid
the tenacious unspoken
in a thousand fragments
would crash down on him.
he was amazed the trees
were not bowed from the weight
of that thing they couldn’t say
and he remembered that song…
he looked up at the changing of the colours to paradox –
it would be the paper cuts
Every way she listened, there were endings.
This weight of pretense had to be shifted.
It was time to chord change them out of the cliché, and even though his music always made her dance, his shadows were not hers.
So she did what he didn’t expect. She brought the pig’s heart.
And they drank the wine…
This cellular leaking
in no particular order
is so kindly clogging arteries