| 11:03p |
thoughts upon hearing nothing
He was mine. He was mine and now he's not. They were all mine, and they slipped through my fingers like sand on a beach.
She doesn't hear but she sees and thinks and knows and moves and does. Sometimes it's just too much.
Heartbeats irregular. One. Two. Eight. Sixty-four. Squares of numbers are not triangular. Triangular numbers are the best kind - make sense. Three-sided. Make sense.
No more sense.
Hands. Fingers. Fingernails. Imperfect. Keratin. Calcium. Teeth.
He has perfect teeth.
He was mine. He was mine and now he's not. |