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| *image: susan seddon boulet |
| Cold with pain she woke to find daylight
slumped beside her bed again, hung over, cast aside from god knows what, an unbecoming heaven. At least, this time, this bed was hers, dimly recognized by smells of yesterday gone stale, clinging limp to vaguely unbecoming memories. No longer fighting fires but lighting them, hope drained from blood that screamed for poison, broken-arrow dreams mocked her unbecoming mind. She owned no tears but �how did this happen?� floundered from the wreckage begging for an answer from scars already scarred by another unbecoming night. Cold with desecration, ragdoll daylight crawled into unwilling arms, spilled impotence upon her breast, wept upon her jagged, crippled ribs and unbecoming heart. |