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Daisies Dream of Copper Lids
Jul. 3rd, 2002 02:25 am"I have dreams in my head," she whispered. Stubbed out her floundering cigarette against the edge of the curb she was sitting upon. Scuffed boots and black stockings that were beginning to ladder up one side.
"These dreams are people. And they're walking around. Just like you or I. Only you can't see them. And I can only see them when I close my eyes." She drew one hand over her face and I was briefly reminded of a woman closing the blinds on a window. No one is home, the motion said. So, there's no use knocking. "They have lives and hearts, just like anyone else. But, it's such a fragile existence."
"I'd like them to leave." She looked up at me. And I could see the age in her face, something which I'd previously thought I'd never see. Not in this lifetime. The girl had always possessed such a young and wide open face. With clear eyes and smiling lips. She was of the type to bring to mind an opening flower, just at the morning and raising its arms to the coming sun.
Her eyes were drawn away from me just then, drawn down to her fingers where she proceded to pick apart a hangnail forming on her right pinky nail. It was the movement, the motion, of a trapped animal. A caged creature who knew in its very bones that rescue or escape was not coming for them.
"See, sometimes these dreams go away. The people in them go away. I don't know if they're dead or tired of me. But, they're gone. And I can't quite take that. Every single time I close my eyes to sleep, I'm left wondering who's still going to be in attendence. Who's going to remain?" She picked more at her nail and I watched a bead of blood, dark as dirt in the failing glow of the streetlamp overhead, rise up and stretch itself towards the outer boundaries of the skin's surface. Such a raw spot, I knew how it was throbbed in time with her softly beating heart.
"Such little deaths. I want them to stop. I don't want to dream anymore." She turned her eyes up to me again and I saw how they pleaded.
Please make it stop.
Help me let it rest.
Just make it go away.
Oh, darling...
"These dreams are people. And they're walking around. Just like you or I. Only you can't see them. And I can only see them when I close my eyes." She drew one hand over her face and I was briefly reminded of a woman closing the blinds on a window. No one is home, the motion said. So, there's no use knocking. "They have lives and hearts, just like anyone else. But, it's such a fragile existence."
"I'd like them to leave." She looked up at me. And I could see the age in her face, something which I'd previously thought I'd never see. Not in this lifetime. The girl had always possessed such a young and wide open face. With clear eyes and smiling lips. She was of the type to bring to mind an opening flower, just at the morning and raising its arms to the coming sun.
Her eyes were drawn away from me just then, drawn down to her fingers where she proceded to pick apart a hangnail forming on her right pinky nail. It was the movement, the motion, of a trapped animal. A caged creature who knew in its very bones that rescue or escape was not coming for them.
"See, sometimes these dreams go away. The people in them go away. I don't know if they're dead or tired of me. But, they're gone. And I can't quite take that. Every single time I close my eyes to sleep, I'm left wondering who's still going to be in attendence. Who's going to remain?" She picked more at her nail and I watched a bead of blood, dark as dirt in the failing glow of the streetlamp overhead, rise up and stretch itself towards the outer boundaries of the skin's surface. Such a raw spot, I knew how it was throbbed in time with her softly beating heart.
"Such little deaths. I want them to stop. I don't want to dream anymore." She turned her eyes up to me again and I saw how they pleaded.
Please make it stop.
Help me let it rest.
Just make it go away.
Oh, darling...