Her Broken Body

There was a slurred speech in her voice,

its sound shifting frantically in the empty

air, its mechanics losing its taste, like an old

woman in a hospital bed. 

I stared at her broken body in the silent room,

searching for the spark inside her soul, letting

my existence drift into the inner world of her heart,

allowing the pain in her eyes seep into my life. 

I followed her unsynchronized steps to its sudden stop,

my eyes focused on the tears trickling down her somber face,

her hands trembling at her twisting hips.  I could hear the teethbiting

crowding the air, how it echoed in my ears and down the shadowed halls,

the way it conflicted my thoughts, the way the sound seemed to curl in towards

my chest. 

I covered my ears, but I could still hear the reverberating verbs trapped inside my mind,

dark and sinking, cold and shattering, a painful cry pounding my brain.  A wave of shock

ran down the back of my spine, more intensifying than a splintering blade, as I studied

her featureless frame, the smell of death lingering in the atmosphere.

I looked outside at the fallen leaves from oak trees, its dull, diminishing hue a reflection

of a lost angel detached from her dimension, like a sunken star.   I leaned next to the

window and inhaled the chalky taste of the smoky trees, not much of a lifeline, slowly

drowning in despair.  I turned back facing the girl, as her depiction became a blood scarlet scene,

slowly fading into nothing at all, every breath of its existence crashing off course.