Monday, November 30, 2009

more than nought

"There, under white, crinkled sheets, between the soft shadows of a gray day, under days and days of hopeless care, lies a nine year old human fragment, breathing almost carelessly, separated of all toxic smog that now belongs only to the city outside. The rhythm of her small, heaving chest could lull me to sleep every time and again, a sleep that is safer than any depthless ocean. She is my prayer.

But the truth is here, as well. This is how she lies here. This is how I lie.

Slowly, almost doubtingly, I approach her and put my cold hand on her sleepwarm, slightly moist forehead. Small traces of rest detach themselves from her face, and with the inertia of broken light she opens her eyes. For a brief flicker she is suspended between this world and the one she came from, only to enter the here and now fully, and with that, she smiles at me.

She reaches out with frail arms and I find my spot between them, take her in my protection and as my arms are two question marks around a fading sun, I kiss her gently on her warm cheek, and her breath smells of dull roses, and for a brief, passing moment I am happy, truly happy."

- Butcherflies


Book Mouth Unzips said...

How truly beautiful your prose turns out to be in English. Well done matey!

P said...

thanks, man. i really appreciate that.