I.
The head can be persuaded, but the heart is made of both flesh and stone. Stubborn and raw, a wound begging to be stitched.
II.
I wander brightly lit hallways in clothes made of blue paper. I dream of a time when I awoke to your alarm clock, the beautiful beats of soulful music, the sounds of your rustles as you left before the sun rose. I spent the days dancing through the smallest of kitchens. I spent the days smiling with my hand on my belly. Life was bursting forth, love pulsating through the very plaster of our walls. Hatred coexisted comfortably there, muted and grey in the background.
III.
I was never very good at leaving you alone. Still can't do it. I guess some things never change.
