There was a heart-stopping pause.
She thought in that instant, that, oddly, she was so extraordinarily wonderful
And then she died.
They didn't discuss the aftermath, but they thought daily of her.
They didn't see the fallout.
She tiredly, tiredly went on.
On and on, spinning a devil's web of prose in her head -
They caught her like gawping bear traps, ripping down to hard bone.
All the years of shielding herself from herself was ripped away with it.
There it was, that living, vulnerable heart. How she disdained it,
Beating wetly, pulsating wildly, pulsating without question
She wanted to scream. How could it go on and on that way, no attention?
She though she would, indeed, smoke a cigarette,
And putting it between her lips she nearly choked on her own sorrow.
How did that get there? Like a dirty sock in the middle of a coconut cake.
She knew who had been stepping on her cake, and she decided not to care.
She ignored her.
She sanitized her minds,
The clorox and the bleach of her imagination sweeping through,
Great swaths, her yellow gloves on her metaphorical hands, swabbing away the mess.
And it was messy. Blood everywhere. Blood from that bloody, bloody heart.
She wondered if she had really died at all.
She wondered if she could live
Her heart beat wildly, wildly.
