next to the cooking stove (outing)

The mistakes she did will follow her to the grave

there they'll be safe

maybe there she can scream

when she remembers how he touched her

better yet its they

maybe it was her fault

certainly it was

a man cant be blamed for his libido

she had her lonely self to trust

when you are 8 you know its wrong

at 14 its more like the lemons life threw at you

make lemonade

make money

make favours

make everything you can to hide the failure of your rebellion

she finds someone to give your heart to so you no longer feel the ache

so when she bleeds she does not feel the pain

she don’t take it back when its over so she's never really lamed

by emotions but then the lack of it catches up to her head

catches up to her cognitive ability to forget and repress

the memories she'd rather die than address

she sits there wondering why she cant love anyone

but its anyone including her own blemished mind that cant love her

she refuses to

she would tell any other girl it weren’t her fault

but she is an exception

in her book she asked for the deception

and its repercussions

of never being able to put a sentiment

to anything as intimate

as that which was used against her

so she lives in exile in the midst of people but outside of love

wishing back the girl that drew her wedding dress at 5 years old

on the kitchen floor next to the cooking stove

MR MOON

0520...she would have started earlier but her mischievous laptop was in dire need of a reboot, according to HP maintenance support, and she didn't want to risk it. Though all she wanted to do at this point was to just pour words on a virtual, digitally produced imposter of the A4 sheet of paper, she knew that doing this effectively required her laptop to function in an orderly manner.

She sits up off her single bed, which is very much so, and as she leans against the wall behind her she slowly tucks her fingers behind the curtains of the window which is just adjacent to her bed and and pushes them away in such a paced and elegant manner one would think she was concerned about chipping one of her badly manicured finger nails. She tilts her head towards the right in order to see past the side edge of the double glazed window slightly misted by fog outside. There he is, she knew he would be there. She knew because he always is but even with that in mind she awed at his beauty. She stared at the slightly uneven but still very round cluster of silver in the sky. tonight he is more luminescent than she can ever remember seeing him. Anxiously she pulls the curtains close again, but only a little to hide herself. As if he could see her, catch her in her perverse act of staring at an unaware bright shining mass floating in the sky on a clear night, and of course he can see her. She smiles at him and looks around shyly... it looks like there is nobody around in the world but she and him. Not even the stars came out to disturb their little love affair.

She closes the curtain and slides in deeper under her quilt, all of a sudden she doesn't need to write. She feels completely satisfied by her little date with the moon, a strange rush flows to her head urging her to tear down her curtains and just let him shine in, just let him keep her company until he has to go and she can finally sleep. No . She un-tucks her miniature fingers from behind the curtains.

Quickly her mind wanders towards her towards her new found love. To her, it was the love which was new, not he. She feels bad 'how lonely he will feel without me watching him and waiting with him till he has to go'. Soon, her nights will consist of things which normal people do at night. She wonders if he'd be jealous. What he don't see cant hurt him. She decides to get herself much thicker curtains. She imagines herself actually sleeping because that is all she can do. She'd forgotten what it felt like but it was worth it.

0600 hrs. she can see short orange rays on the horizon and she knows they will grow very fast.

Again she peaks outside the window, he is still there, but not for long. Soon he will disappear for hours and even sooner I wont be there to appreciate him when hes there.

'goodnight my dear' she yawns with despair 'goodnight and i'll miss you'

words she would never say to anyone who could reciprocate but the moon makes it worth it