In the evening, in the humidity of mid-summer
she sits on the balcony, someone she
her mind a stones-throw away from getting lost in an opaque past.
A deep breeze rushes through her,
She remembers the long quiet of the drive, that day.
Nothing like some had told her it would be
a long rush of emotion with the racing thoughts, no—
It was not like that at all.
It was quiet inside.
She had seperated her body from her mind, and accepted what she believed then had to be done.
It was not glorious, or empowering.
She remembers him, too.
There was a little too much give in her hips
so when his nails,
like jagged moons,
there was hesitation, a rejection of the fleshy truth that was her nakedness.
She pretended not to notice, the alcohol thick on her breath,
and sunk into the night, following his lead.
She drove herself there and back, even though she wasn’t supposed to.
A quick, mysterious heart, beating inside her own,
quitely in the womb of her own broken shell.
She hid this flame.
This, a flame silently extinguished.
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