12-10-2021, 10:37 PM
You have seen many colors in your short life. Greens and blues and teals and white and black. But for all the colors you have seen, how is it you have seen so very little red? And maybe this is why the way it rushes down her faces holds you so tightly, so fascinated. Or maybe you are your father’s son and you cannot stand to see someone cry.
She cries and she smiles. You have not yet learned this art, so the conflicting expressions are entirely lost on you.
Die.
She says.
“Die?”
You ask.
Somewhere there are red flags going up in the back of your mind, but you either don't see them or don’t mind; anything outside of the tedious cold island life. You watch her for a moment longer, and you are a whirlwind of disturbingly sweet smiles and clever but not particularly intelligent thoughts, without the motivation to do much more than stare and consider.
“I don’t know..”
Don’t know what?
It doesn't matter.
“You can help me?” You ask because you do not know any better. Your parents thoughts you would be safe, they thought they kept you safe. It isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault. “How?” You ask and you close your mouth and push your tongue against the back of your teeth, and they taste like danger. You think…you like it.
never gave a single thought to where it might lead
image by Gary Bendig
@miseria