Fragile: Her Emotions and Poetry

That was what it was, wasn't it? Not just anger. Not a need to control in the way we most often mean it. Not a lack of love or understanding. It was fear. Fear that, forces beyond her control would take him down to a path where she could no longer reach him. Fear that he'd be seduced by something ugly and would choose it. And that there would be nothing she could do but let him go. She loved him. She knew what that meant, no matter what anyone said. It was impossible not to recognize love, wasn't it? Her heart beat so fast and her throat was so dry before she saw him that it felt like panic. How could she not recognize love? She'd been with other boys, crushes. It hadn't felt like this. A moment of pleasure can lead to a lifetime pain. Sometimes, wondered if she even remembered pleasure, if she remembered love. Or had she crossed so much time and distance that she'd forgotten the way, wouldn't remember the language even if she found it again. You're too young to understand. Sometimes you just want the past to go away. You don't always want it lingering, tapping you on the shoulder, reminding you about things you'd rather forget. The things you want to keep, go. The things you want to lose, stay. Sell your history. Sell your soul. You're still bankrupt, tired and old. And the memories how they linger wrap around you when you're cold. Her lyrics, her poetry, tended toward the too flowery, overly ornate. She disagreed. Her language was in line with her inner life. She acted out of passion, sometimes hurting people and then felt horrible about it later. But she never seemed able to make things right again. You can always stay here with me. You can stay as long as you want but her heart was thumping, and she could feel that dry suck at the base of her throat. Her mind was tough, not afraid of anything. But her body was a little girl shaking in the dark. She exhaled. Silence. For a moment, she was almost relieved. But the silence didn't sound quite right. It was empty, void of energy. She couldn't seem to decide between the roles of harsh disciplinarian, leaving you wary and confused. Nobody tells you what to do about those things. Nobody rescues you with a big red truck, sirens blaring. You're supposed to live with it. But it hurts, damages, like a toxin in the water you can't smell or taste.

#Fragile