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The first time he had met her,

the last time he had met her,

he brought her up to the second floor studio

that he rented out on Abbot Street,



Where he fixed her tea,

sitting her down in a dusty velvet chair

that he had newly recruited from

an abandoned flat up the road-



He had drawn her first in charcoal

then swept watercolors across her visage,

as the powdered pigment motes whirled

in the late afternoon light.



She spoke little at first,

offering him no more

than leery consideration

before finally shirking off her cheap, flowered dress.



He knew how the curve of her spine felt

cradled in his palms,

remembered her holding his hand once

while he slipped into the inevitable darkness.



She recalled the stroke of his cheek against hers,

in each moment as it were,

whether he had been a man with the stubble of growth

or still as a boy smelling sweetly of water.



And next door, in another universe

Chopin invented gods and prayer-

COMMENTS

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captainglobehead
22:12 Jan 29 2014

"Chopin invented gods and prayer-"



That was awesome.

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VampireLily
22:19 Jan 29 2014

no YOU are. LOL



Thanks, sweets....

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