22
your hand in mine
In the dream she was walking again. Autumn leaves crinkled beneath her tiny feet.
Vivid colours of the world she had forgotten.
The bright blues and crisp greens.
The running and the sinking when it rained too hard and all the flowers withered and died so fast like they never had been real or beautiful to begin with.
Nunnally woke alone to a house too big for her and a broken body.
She could live without seeing, without walking-she barely remembered what they felt like anyway-but she couldn’t live without her brother. He had left her so suddenly, so selfishly. All of this had been for her and yet she had never felt pain like this before.
She needed his touch to chase away the nightmares that prickled behind her forever shut eyes; barbwire and the last breath of everyone she had ever loved. She felt like a caged bird, confided to the injustices of the black and white world, never to take to sky again.
In the dream she was walking again. Autumn leaves crinkled beneath her tiny feet.
Vivid colours of the world she had forgotten.
The bright blues and crisp greens.
The running and the sinking when it rained too hard and all the flowers withered and died so fast like they never had been real or beautiful to begin with.
Nunnally woke alone to a house too big for her and a broken body.
She could live without seeing, without walking-she barely remembered what they felt like anyway-but she couldn’t live without her brother. He had left her so suddenly, so selfishly. All of this had been for her and yet she had never felt pain like this before.
She needed his touch to chase away the nightmares that prickled behind her forever shut eyes; barbwire and the last breath of everyone she had ever loved. She felt like a caged bird, confided to the injustices of the black and white world, never to take to sky again.