Swaying Flowers

 

She released a fragrance of lightness, not in a manner of weight for she struggled to carry her own strength; a disguise in the frailty of acceptance.

Wild grasses had stretched from the earth bed, cold thorns buried the bare flesh skeleton remains; a window to the clasp lingering forever eternal.

And so it was this that created the spark revealing the true situation – it now seems so vivid I could smell her, head that slightly tilts to the left, arc like; the smile, behind the battled hardened faces of war fought throughout the journey, vacant everywhere but for the last beating veins that is carrying the oxygen from heart to remains.

The situation will stay the same, for those who have seen it will chose to ignore it. My only hope, my final strength is in the belief that she was not frail, nor weak. Despite it all the heart was still ticking, and in the bear pit of life when all had seemed lost, it was she who survived. The strength to survive. Christ i can almost smell her.

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