maelynslavik

William doesn’t talk to us anymore.

He left us in the closet when he moved out of the house.

Time tears at our gentle fabric skin.
 

William won’t let us go in his head.

It is midnight and I am getting a haircut on the lawn.

I am tired, but I shiver with excitement.

Gentle hands tug and snip at my curls,

And as they fall they take root in the grass.

I made tea this morning.

I put the leaves in, watching the steam dance with childlike wonder.

I returned to my laptop, staring at a half finished chapter, the bags under my eyes more apparent than ever.

Do I know the subtle, the shallow things in life? 

Or is it merely my destiny forever to be seeking 

That which is not ours to see?