Eleonora sat next to a pond.
She stared into the muddy stillness.
Certain that her head would fit perfectly.
The dead water that would find her, surround her silhouette.
Your heart is a gong, throbbing bubbles.
And her cheeks implode.
You look at her, her eyes kneel, their colour forgotten.
Eleonara disintegrates and you remain still.
Her fingers glide over your ears.
And she makes a secret wish that will never happen to her.
It is the dark cloud that you bring with you.
The leash, the heat, the memory loss, the hurt skin, cremated, painted over.
Your kiss echoes back from yesteryears.
A downfall from across her neck.
Her hands folded above her stomach.
Teeth clattering, broken dishes, under the city’s sunlight.
Your nose discovered places that she had never felt before.
She followed you as you pretended to know the way.
But it was a lonesome one, only for you and she would become an outcast.
A hitchhiker across the stars.
And you thought she couldn’t move an inch without you.
“L’Écho, study for Une Baignade, Asnières” by Georges Seurat (1859-1891)
Croque-Melpomene 