Tuesday, November 1, 2011

36.

She dug down deep inside her shadowed places
and pulled a tiny pebble from the cracks.
She named it after her favorite song,
and polished it until it glowed a opalescent blue,
and placed in it her shirt pocket for safekeeping.

She ran it through her fingers often,
fastened it to her wallet,
stretched it into string,
wore it as a necklace,
watched it sink and float,
tied it in her hair,
smushed it into glue.

She loved the way it smelled,
loved the way the turquoise glittered on her face.

"I'll keep you," she said.
"Yes.
I think I will."

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