(no subject)
Close your eyes and think about what you've been missing in your life lately. It could be a person, pet, place, thing, occasion, feeling. Anything at all that you miss dearly.
The insides of her eyelids are dark. Dark like the new earth, freshly dug. The darkness is welcoming, soft and warm.
She misses the moonlight, slivery bright. She misses the stars, twinkling, blinking, winking. Blindfolded, her dolls can't see them. Eyes closed, she feels blindfolded as well. Sometimes she forgets how to see.
Her new dollies don't understand very well. They jabber in high-pitched voices, speaking strange cadences. They don't like being blindfolded.
Some leave quickly, escaping into the night air to dissipate. Or on occasion, to sing, glittering as bright as the tiny pinpricks in the sky. Some stay just where they're set, but they do smell terribly bad. Like nasty fruit, set to over-ripen in a musty cellar. They fall apart. Some sit, prim and pretty on their shelf. Curls and porcelain smiles, yellowed lace and faded silks.
But none of them are exactly right.
She'll always miss Miss Edith.