they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Monday, March 05, 2012

a story. part 3.

it was snowing the day she came home. plump white flakes like chunks of coconut covered the street - crackling beneath car tires and hurried feet. he had been up all night thinking of his latest escape. there was a new type of chain that seemed stronger and more fierce than the kind that filled his trunk. and he'd been wondering if buying some would be a good investment. but he also wanted to buy her a dress that would look just as good on a chair as it would on her body. it had been an achy few weeks and he wasn't feeling like himself.
she knocked on the door when she first arrived so that she wouldn't startle him. she knew how he got when he was alone. she was pretty sure he'd not slept much. and she expected to see a pile of dishes in the sink.
he opened the door with a grand gesture. and then, he stood - grasping her hands and memorizing her face. again. it seemed different than it was before she left. it had new experiences behind it. her eyes had seen things she hadn't yet shared with him.
she curtsied and said "well, hello, my dear. it's been a long while since i've seen your tired eyes."
and he bowed saying, "they were tired before they saw you. now, they are wide awake."

the snow fell harder. more audibly. it grew deeper - covering her footprints and filling their balcony with white.

she danced around the living room. spinning and twirling. telling him stories about people and places and that time she sat in the park and watched the sun until it was gone. it was at that moment that his heart felt full again. and he wondered if she would ever know how empty it felt while she was away.


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