Part of You.

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“What part of you is looking for the light?” Her questioning ancient eyes reflect the field of Akasha that instantaneously permeates with vision. Discord molded by shame of who I’ve imagined and the frenzy that is; The anger that will always be me. The heavy tapestry cloaks my 16 year frame, heavily woven with not good enough-ness; hiding the integrity that slowly has bled into archetype. I’ve always played the part perfectly. The hologram flickers bursts of vibrantly coloured textures and the stone empire/city lost is so so cold; How I long to stand there. Alone. Winter air seeping through the thin window frame and your delicate fingertips stroking my back; We laugh at the echo of your heavy accent. ‘Oh how nice’. I deeply miss you. A part of my soul buried on the edge of that driveway; I see her with percision every single day on that mundane route. Whispering pink to pacify the tyranny. Perhaps the past wondrous mystery as preachers wife; instructed to remain quiet despite the Absolute all-knowing. The pages are so thin, yet thick with reverence; Cover to cover of hating those moments we read a language with structure of no understanding. The me that holds such seriousness; desiring to understand it all consumes the finer simplicity within my agency of choice. Part of You; Light in me that is undeniable. The otter is still splashing me back to this realm of existence. Why even look? Why not play?

Erica ArsenaultComment