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Luann Jung Nov 2015
Her name is Lillia,* and I think
               I love her. Her name is Lillia and
   I think I love her and she smells like
             caramelized marshmallows with Honey
                                                           ­                Crisp apples.
                              Or was it Braeburn?
    She smells like Anjou pears and one
           day old rose petals (Scentimental, I think
            they’re called). Her soul would put feathers
                                                to shame with its lightness. When
                       she says my name I hear the crystal echo
        of wolves among the cliffs, and the ******
  of fluted champagne glasses swirling
                              merry contents. Her waist
                                   is like an hourglass where time
                          melts away in a daring drip of
                   not-quite-a-solid-but-is-sand-a-liquid-no-it’s-not.
         ­    Her name is Lillia and I don’t quite
                                      remember how I met her but it’s okay
             because I’m here and she’s here and
                                                             ­        the end justifies the means, right?
Her name is Lillia and I want her
                    to stay with me until all of the stars
    in this starry night become hers. Her name
                        is Lillia, and I am too transfixed by her
        hair swaying in the breeze to notice
                            that she has already walked
                *farther away than I could ever follow.
It was in december when they came for her
she had been coming home in her Volkswagen car
there was a flash of light on her windscreen
and then from the drivers seat she was gone

Why they took her I will never know
four years later she did make a show
her face was ashen and her dress was in tatters
and she was gibbering like a mad hatter

She told us she had been taken
told us to the highest heaven and deepest of hells
we looked up at the skies after that
after the unfortunate taking of Lillia Bell


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

— The End —