powah

When I imagine myself in the future, I am always crying. Very thin. Beautifully dressed, but crying. The reason is never clear.

My future body has pencil lines on its edges...curls of eraser dust on every surface. My arms and legs will grow longer. My hair will be magically stylish with blinding sparkles where the light hits...

Maybe I will be crying because I cannot take the memory of what I used to be from his mind. Every time he will hold my perfect body, he will think of how it used to be...how it is now.

Bare

Today is soft.

My clothes seem so carefully wrapped around me. My feet are bare.

My heart is mending.

Somewhere in my remembrance is a desperation...a sharp feeling.

I am letting go. So quietly. So softly. I am floating apart from a lifetime of faces.

This day. This life will be spent alone. No one will dare to speak. I will speak to no one.