the mirror's best kept secret.

i used to cradle her bleach-cracked hands in mine and decode the stardust resting within her fingerprints up until the day that i lost touch with the art of reading braille and she stopped slinging tall-tales for me to fetch and rest the plot-twist at her feet often in the post-script i'd find my train of thought highjacked by the sunlight illuminating the rainbow of earth-tones ablaze in her frizz-ridden curls as if she'd been washing her hair with the damaged case of beer she'd gotten for half-price at liqour depot she never did quit drinking but neither did i at least we tried though sometimes in the middle of the night when nothing was alright and we'd barely survived another fight her face would catch my glance cast aglow by a flood of lava-lamp light the sea of freckles resting at the crest of her cheeks rose lips perma-pursed in half tilt her resting heart-rate so high that i could almost see it pirouetting within her chest it was then that i'd love her best amidst the ruins of who we were just moments before

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