She has a
memory. One beautiful memory. Carefully held in the palm of her hands, so
that no one else might find it and steal it.
She must leave it nowhere. It
must always remain with her. The memory
of that one summer morning, while they still slept. The pavement of the driveway cool on her bare
feet as she stepped into the shadow cast by the huge Mountain Ash in the front
yard, the sun burning golden at the edges.
No one must have this moment.
This moment must never be touched.
Because she must
hold it so close and so carefully, she cannot hold onto any others. She lets the pictures framed in broken glass
fall through her fingers. There must
only be one world. One world, underneath
the tree, where no one else exists. Let
the others sleep. Let them all
sleep. She is a girl standing in the
shadow of a golden halo. She must never
step out. She must live here forever.
this voice does not scream
these eyes open
only to dream
these lungs too
full of fire to breathe
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