The Couch

Violet arrived home in the early hours of the morning, took her a good ten minutes to see through her clogged eyelashes to get the key in the lock… She stumbled onto the couch which has become her bed in these heated Autumn days. Leaves have not fallen anywhere near as heavily as it seems Violet has.

Free & frozen under the airconditioning, the shivers of a refusal to take a quilt. Sleep took her at 04:14 & I watched as the horrors of her evening whisked her mashed brain through dreams I knew she could not escape.

Her house dead weighted by the looming loneliness of the small morning hours. Those quiet dark times. I wanted to wrap warmth around her despite her burning skin.

At 05:00am I watched as he laid the quilt softly over her fragile body, the consideration & gentleness was not lost on her & appreciated though she was caught lightly in her dream state.

A lingering aroma of tobacco & night air woke her 30 seconds before her alarm & she found her eyes filled with steamy, stinging tears.

07:04am the shower runs – a heat rises in her head – headache. Neckache. Backache. Heartache. “The Couch” she whispers to the running water. The silver stream engulfs her face and for a minute I am unable to distinguish between the river of water & her tears. A deep breath almost chokes her as she lathers up her thinning hair, more of it disappears down the drain & the water turns blood red then midnight blue from her hair dye. She has not opened her eyes but I can see the tears roll down her soft, battered cheeks as she turns her back on the water to wash out the suds.

Violet’s eyes open. She looks me dead in the eye & she shatters me with “this is tearing me apart…the only things that end never truly begin…” I rest my lips against her forehead – that’s as close as she will let me to her. I am put to the side for the remainder of the morning…

Comments from MySpace:
18 Mar 2008
Tyson Boyce: I remember that heat. Conversely, it just started snowing here!

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