Understanding Flutterby

I got a shock this morning, when my reflection peered curiously at me from within the confines of the mirror.
My eyes,
lids swollen,
tears written in mascara tracks on my cheeks.
There weren’t even that many of them.
I didn’t expect to look so


He takes a picture from the wall, one I hung for Him to see. I remember placing it there, hands trembling, breath held, listening to haunting echoes of what have I done?

“Shall we talk about your…”
<heavy pause>
He says,
and from the shadows, shades rush to crowd defensively around the frame, the eerie rustle of their capes causes me to hang my head.

Darkness bleeds, coating my desires and I in shame, and all I can do is hope he sees the engraving on the plaque beneath..
‘please, PLEASE understand, I don’t want to…

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Om Stene Anker

Just some words...
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