[Dandeli]

: — :
..a lifetime's worth of experience I'll churn, 

melted, emulsified and poured onto a spool of blank pages,
dripping with faces with the curves of smiles I can only faintly recall..

 

..underneath a dappled sun I forget their every broken blemish,
the tone of their laughter, the ferocity of sorrow that bled without recourse,  

so this heart of charcoal will scrape, and scrape, and scrape, and scrape..

 
..for doubtlessly there is the echo of those old impressions, 

beneath all of yesterday's soot and ash..
: — :
"...The unused room will make for a good repository.."
".. Perhaps these poor, unfilled things can earn a new lease on life.."
".. Fill each page with every single memory.. oh, were only my hand still precise.."
".. Hem these spiralling pages with petals, ink them slowly in blood.."
: — :

: — :

..I didn't want you to fade alone, I admit, 

nor chisel your memory into gentle alabaster,
we are all scabs, and bruises, tears and hideous regret..

  

..I cradle you with stained glass hands that refract pretty lies, 

condensing you into a pure, smiling face,
carving your symbol into an arrowhead, 

unable to be drawn from this quiver..
  
..I am far too afraid to save you now,
so you must suffer for the sum of our shared mistakes..
: — :

. 

     . .

 

. .    

 

  . 

".. I organised the dried flowers today, finalised the print of yesterday's leaf, and framed that poor butterfly.."

".. these little things will find no breeze, and have no legs which might carry them.. I can keep them safe forever.."

".. the attendants don't take kindly to these long stays, but no matter.."

".. in this room I have almost everything I might need.."

 

".. almost.."