She left this world quietly, slowly, it had rested on her shoulders
Far too long and she sat in every corner of the house alone with
All of her unbearable demons. She had nothing to say to anyone.
She had erased her own memory, her scent in the stripped bed.
As if she stepped into a river without needing any more air, without
Vocalising her grief over herself. She sought solace in a realm that everybody fears.
Her face had been a letter without words.
She would sit next to me and her mind just
Felt so heavy, she looked the other way. She
Couldn’t stand it, people looking at her, figuring
It out. She wouldn’t speak. I knew her well. Her body
Enacted her and she left me without ever looking back.
“Profile of a Woman (Zorka)” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 