My feet wandered into the serene shoreline while the strong waves hushed my cacophonic mind — I strummed my fingers and gripped tightly of my conch. While my lips brushed around its spiral shell — as I whispered my wishes and blow through, suddenly an angel flew by and swiveled — his wings burning.
From the heavens, he falls right through the deserted sea. My naked feet began to push its life towards him — he lies on the sand and his wings burning through. Silhouettes of him rang on my mind; gashes of water fell through my eyes — and whilst even the silence grieved for us. His burning wings calmed the strong winds — the winter sea began to calm its strident waves as I let myself lie awake beside him.
I closed my eyes and the replicas of myself flashed through like a candescent wind — and there I saw a woman lying in the hospital bed. The sun mirroring the artificial light through the windowpane; the man standing beside her had his wings folded — and his eyes cold as the winter and the woman dying in her tranquil sleep.
The trees had fallen its last leaves, and the winter is coming at dawn. The man covered my eyes and I was at the winter sea again — “Mona, you will die in winter.”
And I woke up. It was September.
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