She is my little bridge
between what you once were,
what I once was,
and the creatures
we now embody. It's nice.
Like she exists to clean
the memories with the white dresses,
to starch and preserve the folds
every time my sadness
drags them through the mud.
Perhaps if we had a few more weeks,
we would have become friends.
For me, it has always been terrifying,
swimming alone in the lake, at night.
But her on the shore,
shining her flashlight,
and she doesn't even owe me
anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment