secrets.

*

take a piece of the sky. a pocketful of secrets. any of number of those pieces and pocketfuls were his for the taking.

she held them all tightly. guarded. hidden. from everyone. then he smiled. whispered. promised. his eyes gave her Hope, while his hands gave her Faith. [naive perhaps? such is Heart..] both she'd been missing for years. she saw herself handing her secrets to him one by one, gently, as tho they were little shards of broken glass--fragile yet dangerous--so he could piece it all together. make it rain cherry wine.

she blamed the wind..she spoke to it, give him Love. give him Life. it kissed her cheek. the ghost-like cold took part of her as it passed. she cursed its apathy, and begged it to not take anything more. give him mine. he's a child, [aren't we all?] young and willing. she lost herself in the night, but the sidewalk led her home in a world so unforgiving, that in time takes all the living from your Soul.

come here, she said gently. he sat on the bed, and set his head in her lap. she brushed his hair back, running her hands through the thin, soft strands. his throat was dry, but his eyes were wet--she refused to cry. sleep baby, don't you cry...instead she hummed the lullaby they'd sung together a thousand times, skipping the lines she didn't want, changing the words to fit the moment. and i live forever dark and damned to see you spend one minute in wonderland. she promised him. and she meant it.

you're beautiful, she whispered the reminder. he turned to see the intensity of her expression. her fingers traced his cheek bone, behind the ear, slower..down the jaw to find his chin. her hand fell to cross his chest to his arm. she squeezed it, just enough so he could feel. i'll be there.. he was tense. he closed his eyes with a sad smile. he pictured her face--he could see it, even with his eyes closed. she put her head back against the pillow propped behind her. he always had a warm, sweet smell she never wanted to escape. this was her escape.

she leant so her lips could touch his forehead. not his lips..not this time. only that spot that seemed to glow where she'd brushed his hair back.
sleep baby, don't you cry, i've got a worn out lullaby.

*

nb. italics in this post are song lyrics.
wonderland, angie aparo