Her painted eyebrows slanted slightly up
As if to constantly imply a quizzical nature.
My hands ran past her hips and up her sides
Drawing red marks in ink, promising compromise under the knife.
"A little to the left, just there, okay.. We'll fix that"
And the mumbling from those red lips sounded like
Oh yes. Oh yes.
She was beautiful before those days in the sun
The rays of light caressing her body like Divine intervention
I know in my head it will all be alright.
The insertion of the tube in her throat is only temporary, right?
She'll be breathing on her own again?
Right?
They inserted the silicone beneath perfect skin
Supple and waiting eagerly for idealism.
Why did my angel de-wing herself?
Why did she fall so suddenly into the operating room?
If I could catch her, would she claw her way out of my embrace?
Her eyes filled with relief and then went blank
I kissed her forehead and looked at her one last time.
Remembering the way she was, before that day
Lights out
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