Does this go here? Does it go through there? Does it go up here? Does it go down there? Does it slide around the base of your belly and careen into the slope where your heart meets mine and plummet into the crevice I left in your mind? Does it stay there like an injured bird and rest its head against the wall and bemoan the losses, grieve the celebrations? Does it kiss itself better like what I imagine you did on that day we both lost the same part of ourselves, just in different directions? Does it realise the light seeping through individual spots individual marks in the walls, does it touch each opening and see the pattern of stars carved across the surface? Does it give up or does it go on? Does it look up and squint its eyes bravely against the onslaught of blinding light to try and reach and reach for anything above that might save you from me? Does it find a handhold, a grip or a a branch of some sort that olive branch I found in the corner of my pelvis from that time you left it there, the first time you met me? Does it pull itself up or does it fall? Does it climb slow and steady or does it lunge, up up and above, desperate to escape the below? Does it know where it’s going or does it trust the Fates enough to show the way? Does it find you or does it find me? Does it go to the chambers of your heart or the ruins of mine? Or is it the other way around? Does it go there? Does it go here?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 2:06pm on May 12, 2025 via server WEBX2.