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She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally decided to walk through the door. It was built with three cracking wood beams and mounted on a step of concrete blocks. The prayers hissed out as she clung to each of their words, relying on their power to change the fate of what lay beyond the rosewood barricade.
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I speak in a language of You language of love does, did, do I love you Do I love you? When every second thought is…
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Very pale white male and female standing on text books (serving as platforms) in middle of stage with all of the lights on. Male dressed in jeans, grey Polo, brown leather jacket, red scarf, brown loafers and hair slicked back with a lot of hair gel. Female dressed in skinny jeans, yellow Polo with gray argyle sweater over it, yellow high heels, brown leather purse and a lot of bold face make up. Male and female very still-straight posture, one arm in front of them, plain faces. The lights start to turn off (not at the same time), leaving a spotlight on the two mannequins. Movements are very stiff and rigid.
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When I was 12 I walked into my living room at the exact moment my sister stepped off a chair. The rope snapped up around her chin like headgear. She broke three of her teeth when her jaw hit the edge of my mother’s antique trunk.
“Are you alright?” -
Our privacy’s been cooked, our faces have been booked, our right are overlooked, my space has been took.