There was something distinctively heretic about the way this girl was tampered with.
The way she moved.
It was as though the finer inner workings of her Body and Soul were borrowed from another who's fate was drowned in blood many ages ago.
A symbol of beauty wrapped in the grips of a violent dance with inertia.
Cursed to make love to this world over and over again till love was reduced to a stain on the wall
A photograph of the sun,
all shine and no shimmer.
Standing beside her felt like the first time glass hit concrete.
Was I happy or was I just not paying any attention?
That is a question worth asking twice