The flashback wakes me from the wrestling of my dream. She’s faceless. The bloom overflowing beauty. I blink only through maxim effort for fear she is an illusion.
Her past fenced off from me. She insists nothing endures from it. A canceled stamp. Evidence of tangible things left to resembles kids stamps in a coloring book. I buy this as if I hypnotized by a swinging watch.
As much at I want her….
Her voice sings “Normal is an illusion. What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly.”
I feel am the fly here.