"Relax I'm different." I said to her eyes. To her malnourished soul.
Purging regrets, misfortunes, and awkward moments from our minds we stand tall and attenuate.
"Don't say that," she says, looking-shifting away.
Boys have taught her not to love, the game of sex, and how to will yourself towards numbness-calling it freedom; calling it strength.
"Ourselves, alone, with nothing but the past, will remain halved." I say, as my hand guides her back to me. I believe the words, but that's not what should have been said. corny bullshit.
"Why are you going," I say. She gracefully deflects my hand away.
A beautiful scene to view as the leading matriarch of rejection, play her tunes.
"To live...good bye." She will leave in a week. I have a whole week.