torn fabric lets the light in old curtains hang on the windows slightly askew she stands there the second girl, waiting with her back to the wall leaning into the moment one hand braced behind light becomes distraction playing along the wall with abandon the second girl shifts in place watches the shadows join in to stretch and pull the hours that are left in the day they walk in, hand in hand He looks around the room the second girl looks up tilts her head to listen they stand too close talking about their lives he laughs too loudly she knows he watches her over his wife's shoulder trying to catch her eye Watch hands march slowly another second, hour, minute, month passes filled with quiet laughter love exchanged like secret seeds on the wind the game stretched thin to inevitable fading pale light at dusk She reaches out to hold nothing in her hands Memory and a handful of words left to float in the ether No one knew the thread between them delicate untouched unchecked uncut undone She stands there, the second girl alone with her thoughts unclear in the aftermath what remains unsaid lost forgotten She remembers the scar of a tear she made in the curtain made to let the light in she remembers always being the second girl, waiting ~ la 2020
lei fraser 