the song under the door

[Cristina1900]

how can I please you my jumbled soul in this stepmother-life
let me draw a poisonous comb against your hair
see you’re black and white now / you got curdled lil’ sister
your sweat begins to smell sour / you swallow without chewing
small dumplings of sunlight / déjà vu from the remains of your youth
with those snowfalls when a man dragged you on a sledge and said
that it snows if he wishes this

…now your life is bittersweet like green wallnut jam
do you still remember that story about the greatest love
let me be here another season / let me be the shadow of your shadow
that waltz with fancied flounces holding the arm of a statue/
chestnut and acacia flowers popping down over both of you

you still care for your old photo wearing a discreet smile
because you didn’t believe that a man can feel red colors
through his fingertips
you even turned around in amazement when men stared at you
and you rarely read sf / that story about the perfect love
sold at a luxurious matrimonial agency
romantic and immense like the horizon over the ocean/
with too many unintended consequences

it was a time with beardless wise men and you among them
you dreaming every day about peace all over this world
a young girl with her soul right in her eyes
and a bit of strength in her fist
both sand and tinder

[dwells]

The sand that cannot be held perhaps, and the tinder for starting a youthful fire of perpetual promise. A wonderfully realistic and wistful reverie of the small things that still linger in the later years; burdened with those unintended consequences. Uniquely you, alike we too. Cheers Cristina and wonderfully wrought! - Dan

[godsplat]

I like the way this was penned out, very much worth the read!

[ObsidianMule]

Throwing snowballs made of sand. Your piece invoked that image for me. I think this would do well in the sadness forum as well.