- Vol. 03
- Chapter 08
Until curiosity twitches…
…and your eyes saccade across the blotched surface of my nose, curve the clean lines of my brow, come to a full stop at the stark exclamation of my eyes.
Skim read your way down my lines.
See the subtle sag and smudge of years. How single strands – days, weeks, months; lives, remembered and forgotten – frizz and tangle, knot, to disperse into split ends. The compressed glow of days, when light lived in these lines. Sunrise, a confusion of orange. Midday – sun centred – lines sharp. Now watch the last light of sunset, my last lines.
A blue gloom at my back.
Lines the shape of time.
Let your eyes settle.
Read me and remember these lines.
Read me as I read you. Even now, as time works its slow erasure on your own lines, on your own life.