pain sits on the rib cage like a soaked white feather blanket
once light and airy, comfortable
now clings to bone like the beginning of fresh decay
arms feel like honey when brushing the weight aside

"are you alright?" she asked sweetly, blush as rose from the sea's reflection

"I think so" her wife feigned a smile, but then ashamedly resumed her true form

in that moment nothing seemed alright
each breath seemed to tighten like a corset
the death of a parent leaves child wayward

lost

the riptide carried sea foam back to where it came from
and seagulls continued to inspect the shore
Mira was livid that time didn't stop

but the redolent smell of BBQ was what turned her stomach
how could people be eating when her mother was gone?
it was repulsive
an artist's nightmare
the trivialities of food and water
when such a deep hole existed.