I slipped your picture out of my left pocket, where I keep so many things. But today, only your picture, folded, soft. So I stared at it like I normally would, ran my thumb over your face, kissed your feet. Then. I looked again and saw how your face was turned, sadness filled me, shock and denial. Because I knew then what was happening. Your hands usually in their prayer position, now closed, the clouded halo you don, now only gray smoke, the cloak usually teal and gold, now just dim-lit cloth. That's when I knew. My heart would break later. The heart no one can save.
I decided to watch a black and white movie alone. I love doing that because I love b/w movies, and it makes me feel like my mother is watching with me. Sometimes I'll even ask her questions. And I wonder if my husband will hear me speaking to myself and wonder why. "mom, who's that actor?" sometimes I look around to see if maybe she decides to answer me. from up there. tell me things about this movie no one else would know. because they aren't movie people like us. a few nights ago I fell asleep. and then the darkness came with the fear that likes to rent space inside my heart, the scared piece of it. the smell of fear in my nose and on my tongue. I woke to the acrid air, my lips mumbling. I know it's that damn couch that likes to give me nightmares. falsely lulling me. black and white movie music. until I feel shaky and sick. but I can't tell won't ever tell what happened in that bad bad dream. those are words I don't dare ...
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