You left your flat iron
June 23, 2014 at 1:36am
Woman...
You left your flat iron...
"Woman" I mused... The word meant far more than I had imagined...
It had a voice to it
A spirit
A magnetic field
It had its own breath and it's own flavor
She was able to leave all those things on anything she touched, even if she herself was somewhere else...
Your flat iron, like those things, carry on your charm.
She was ubiquitous, in every object surrounding me, all that was here was the life she had created.
Life is made up of just things such as these, a faded wooden bed, a floral pattern bedcover, a forgotten pink flat iron left sitting on a counter. What she created was engulfing me, so that I had the feeling of losing my identity. She had cut into me, slicing straight down the middle, she had cut away my past.
