Light at her side

There's light at her side as she reads.

Heart swollen

Warmth from remote cold

Pressing from the window

Bare foot arched at green cotton knee.

Heel taps skirting

She arrived back at 4; no reason for coming home, though here she finds herself. Open book, cold shoulder, finger tracing gently down page: aches pouring up at her.

Her surrounds a poor mimicry of the text. Of feeling truly felt, hearts burned and broken.

A woman shattered by her lover, grieves for his return to put together pieces that made sense in his presence, though this broke her all the more.

Experience that brings life to single, sharp focus.

She longs to kick away supports – grey and tasting rubbery – see how far she can fall.

Surrendered to limitless gravity, than swamped in stable muck.

Mules riding off to nowhere in particular, bringing back stories of nothing new.

Tales lie deep in her; swooning, bulging to rupture, drench and be drenched by an outside so closely contained.

Express and be impressed upon – no longer hold the flimsy lifeboat.

She swells, heaves and dives in other pages.

Heart thrilling at its working pain.

World deflates around her.

Cold shoulder, finger tracing gently down each page.

Eyes,

Heart

Weep