Disguise our demise with netted curtains and a red wax seal
The end is nigh and leaves nothing but november chill which steams from our paused lungs pumped by hearts stood still
Look closely but speak not for these words move in circles and cease all will
But Please, as we pass in peace, avoid coffin bound formalities and let us lay on our side in lovers spoon
We must die as we were born, two curled up withering fetuses laying in deaths womb
Lay on our side in lovers spoon
We must end how we begun.
What is he thinking, when his face turns like that? Does he not understand how I notice the thin line that develops between his brows as he contracts them so slightly? Nor the way his shoulders stiffen, or the small vein behind his left ear that pulsates as it thickens. How his eye lids tighten by the smallest of fractions, and flutter not nearly as often. Why do his lips stay so straight? Why do they not turn to his sultry smile? Nor bow to a sorrow frown? His breath is too even, too rhythmic, like when one sleeps. But his eyes are open and he is not asleep. In a dream, maybe, but asleep he is not. His eyes are open, his eyes. Oh how his eyes are empty! They are that of the freshly deceased, as if one has taken their last breath and the life leaves their eyes as it leaves their lungs. But he is not dead, not in that way. When he thinks like that, he is alive, but not here. No. He is most certainly not here.
B.
I remember the day I became a Woman. It was when a clay sculpture fell off my shelf, down onto my dressing table, and due to gravity’s collision, shattered into several pieces. I had had the sculpture since birth; it had followed me in every room I had slept within. A great half moon figure with drowsy eyes and a dozing smile, sprayed gold by mother and forever watching over me as I slept as a baby, an infant, a young lady. But I am a Woman now, and it need not watch over me any longer.
It is coming, and when it does it shall most certainly destroy me.
I have cheated
I have evaded Womans Nature and decieved Natures Rule
For whilst I remain here
My flesh bound upon a Hillside of Gypsies
And towered by a Palace of Crystal
My mind is contort, my thoughts agape
Arisen from cobbled streets
Stretched beyond a scatter of houses
They are higher
Gliding across vast stretches of earth and rock
Water and Ice
To a town with no time, a patch work of decades
Where Roman and Viking and Tudor live in ultimate harmony
Do you not see my love? I have cheated God,
We are not mortal after all,
I am forever in two places at once,
Forever here, Forever with You.
