ComposeMe

Will man have tried to see the world as I do, free from strings and shadows crisscrossed undermining everything? I do not see through eyes of saints and angels. Conversely, through the eyes of an optimist. My inability is my greatest strength: to not see the future as shadows of the past where everyone who has lived, died and nothing more.  Few are remembered, those that aren't never were. I cannot think to see that for myself or those I love. It is unreal, but true. No tears for the future. No tears for the past. They are not. Only for the present, while holding God's own hand, in trust.

She saw him at the park once. He was the colour of dirt; with bird eyes and white, mapped palms. Her little forehead lined as she felt the bile force its way up until her saliva was acid. She counted her toes and bit the inside of her cheek, should she run? Are they fast runners? She figured this one must be if he kept himself out of jail. The dark man flashed a mouthful of pebbles and held out his hand- which would have swallowed hers. 'Don't touch me.' Her hands were all knuckles and her baby eyes tore into his. He faltered and stepped away, a half mouthed sorry. He looked upset, a grin spread like fire between her dimples. Suddenly she