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Feb 2016
White snow covers the brittle branches
Of the sage brush beside them
The birds song of the Nevadan January is gone-
Not even the brisk wind moves this scene

Her car pushes through the stillness
Then the clicking of her engine stops.
Silence speaks again

Through clouded windows she hears him shouting phrases unknown
Then his stumbled pacing sounds nearer and nearer
He stops at the sight of her

Still sitting in the drivers seat she looks forward aimlessly
With a tug at the door handle she follows him into the road

He's looking at her eyes turn into faucets
longing for her to say something to break the silence
She's staring at the emptiness surrounding him

They almost meet eachothers gaze,
He tries to pull her in, she refuses
Then as the silence floods between them
She rushes into him

The brittle branches are nourished
By the tears that violently crash down
Grasping on to him,
She wills to always be held by him
And then he pulls her off

She tries to speak, but feathers fill her throat
Their eyes meet and search rapidly for secrets
His pupils swallow her face
With the shadow of the sun behind her,
she sees herself within his gaze
He asks her "What do you see"
And she looks into the car window beside her and croaks " Me. I'm Pathetic"
His reflection scrunches his eyes and brings his hand up to his ear
He begins to disappear

The silence surrounds them once more
And she turns around and looks into his eyes one last time
And sees two tears racing to the ground
Grace Pickard
Written by
Grace Pickard  21/F/Reno, Nevada
(21/F/Reno, Nevada)   
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