She speaks of beauty that I will never know.
She reached her peak before I could know her, scars made by their non-existence deep and craggy with bruises that only she could know.
Even now what was looms in the shadows, the whole of Them stretched beyond the limits of the city.
She is kept awake by what she lost;
I can only ever know her
In pieces,
For she gazes back unblinking
into the past that I remember from afar
A past that will not be ours.

From the safety of afar I mourned her loss but it was not mine and she would not share it.
She revisits the place without me.
Upon her return a piece of her is absent,
Alms left in the ever-burning embers, offering herself, a promise–
She has not forgotten.
From my distance I wonder what they were, if they were what she remembers
Gorgeous. Strong.
In their injury and hurt and in the silence they have made
Beauty is.
I marvel that they were, in more than memory and hushed whispers.
When she speaks of them it is as if they stand again–
Their souls are not lost
They boast their possibility again
And I can see them near the shore–

Then they are gone, away into the past that she sees without me
I must subsist on her memory of them.
She speaks of beauty that I will never know.


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