-bleach blonde freedom-
*by someone who understands
more than he’d like to*
her hair’s bleach blonde flax. it was spun by a strung out rapunzel.
she’s losing her grip on youth. the tune she sings is a weary plea for its return.
grains of it remain in her palm. they’re moistened by blood trickling from small cuts. girlishly manicured fingernails are double-edged swords guarding sand of a time passed.
i lean on the railing of this damp balcony watching. it’s plain i’ll never speak to her. i won’t see her again either.
still, i watch while she moves with a desperate version of grace. i watch while her ballad carries a strained version of freedom to my ears.
i can’t see her eyes. i imagine an icy blue. eating-sized fish are frozen still inches below their surface.
my heart lowers.
i don’t get warmer. i don’t get colder. there’s no time for good-bye.
i turn my collar up to the night before facing it.*