Most.
The girl, with sadness colored amber, dilated in the brightest sunlight she’s searching upward. Her hand outstretched in flame, her face cracking from the ice that hardens her once delicate features. In the reflection of this shell she sees, green, blue, brown. And from deeper, trying with all her frail body, she barely feels a single tear. Any less than thousands she believes to be an understatement because her mind stopped counting, heart still ticking, 2…7…8 and when the page turns a drop of her frozen sea lands and ruins it. Running down, around, stop at ‘melody’ and with a heavy sigh the page is counted as a loss with sentences smeared and more drops falling, freezing. The ivory paper melds with her finger tips and she wishes she was this page. Its purpose, it’s story, so much more. So much more beautiful than the fault lines in porcelain, raspberry lips. So many, so many less than his disappointed eyes. It’s like he doesn’t even see the dismantled ice. Every part thawed means double the drifting jagged rocks fitting like a puzzle piece forcibly shoved into its present position. A simple question, simple words, roll off her tongue with the uneasiness of his palpitating heartbeat she’s counting to. She decides to jump in, now flushing, and her jumbled words are barely audible. She regrets this moment more than the last. She is buried by the tone of serenity in his sentences, his clear cut down. Looking out the mirror she regrets this reflection. Escaping deeper within the bitter tundra today, she thinks maybe she remembers them all smiling looking out at the vastness of the little place in this huge world and her little hands still reached for the sky. She is disgraced by those little hands. Wanting that huge world between her tiny fingertips instead of holding on to everything she had, then. Whole chapters of laughter, the pounding inclination of life expanding on her canvas. Woven with blistered fingers, the print manipulated until just perfectly pliable. She painted in the brightest blues. Now she just holds on to her favorite page, her most beloved paragraphs smeared now… She knew they were getting brittle but she wishes for just once more over. With her eyes, her hands, memorizing all of it, all she has left. Drifting… Her mornings yearn for you now. Her life is getting deeply encompassed by the swirl of jet streams and tiny plane windows she won’t look out of ever again. the waters weighing her down and that smile isn’t as half-hearted as she thought it would be. because the ripples in her ceramic casing are breaking. he smoothes the surface leaving just skin. he’s brushing sand off her bronzed shoulders with a lightness she’s never known before. It’s like the sun in early morning and he says it’s up to you, to do the rest, to save us. what if she can’t? what if she can’t feel anything, anymore? he tells her she’s everything. she feels more on these pages, than that bird flying could ever, because hes searching for her today, tomorrow, and finally when he sees her, she’ll know. he’ll know. you’ll be rid of all this, but first, you have to… just learn to walk again, learn to breathe, empty that fatal water to me. You mean this city. You mean the absolute most to me.
