1:29 a.m.

This is something I composed as a continuation of a "first line".

this battle has left her weathered
robbed from her eyes that
constant sense of wonder
that lust for life that grew to be
so infectious
wrapping around me like a child's blanket
a pink umbrella in a sea of black
that one brushstroke
intentionally out of place

I cried that first night
she no longer wore on her face that
smile

"you see" she explains
"the muscles around my mouth are
no longer capable"
she breathes in deep
drowning her lungs with air
and tries but
that hideous grimace on so beautiful a face
a shame!
a parody of its former glory!

I cringe
 
the wounds from the weapon
of the enemy
the punctures that
let in the venom
that seeps through every cell
every pocket every hidden contour
of her being
didn't appear on her
skin until she came home
with seven new piercings
from that place right beside
our favourite bookstore
saying she was
fortifying the wall that
had come down so easily
brick by brick
it would soon be
impenetrable

it wasn't until a year later that
she showed me
on the inside of her left thigh
"1:29 a.m."