Sunday, May 22, 2011

In Some Small Corner He Made Dried Flowers Bloom

As a gentle heart like a shot bird falls, so does the silk of her dress. Slid gently over golden arms, it pours, unfolds, cascades to kiss the floor. Diamante trim reflecting, dancing in effervescent rainbow light.

A bracelet of gold lover's knots, passed down for generations, will be her 'something old'. New - is the silk she wears for a day, remembered for a lifetime. Borrowed is the tiny diamond dancing on her decolletage; her mother's engagement ring threaded through a cord of gold. And 'blue', the ribbon in her hair, pulled loose to tame thick auburn waves.

The observer in the corner sets free a longing smile. This moment whilst well-orchestrated, is for her so bittersweet.

The lover she once loved, now loves another. A creature of her making, her flesh and blood and she is ecstatic for their union. She has passed the gauntlet, nurtured the seed, planted faux memories in his head. She whispered the words and watched them flourish, while her sun sank beyond a dark horizon. She shares her angel's joy, laments her own great loss.

Before another mirror, muscled arms slide through cool white linen. Musician's hands which once played her like a cello, smoothing from nape to hip, now pinch and press and preen and fold a collar. They buckle belt once unbuckled in lust and ravish now waiting to be released upon another in their nuptial bed. Nerves are raw as his dream comes to fruition. That which he thought unattainable will soon be his. His great love, his companion, the object of his desire.

How the other misses the stroke of flawless skin, the pressing of  lips, tongue. How clear her memory of his breath, his body, his hair and hands. How lucid the image of tumbled lovers. This had been his greatest gift and in her lonely corner, he had made dried flowers bloom.

"I love you, know that," he had once said and she believed his words, "I would marry you" he twice said but she knew that was a lie. "You are my fling" he whispered, and she knew it to be truth. Their affair was brief, their friendship everlasting. He was her last love after her first and greatest. But how this tryst was flawed. Chasms opened before them, precipices too tall to scale, rose high and mighty. Their embrace wrenched and wrecked. Each left teetering above the the abyss.
So, she led his heart towards another with her sombre blessing. She couldn't have him always but she could keep him close. She loves him and it aches to set him free. He is perfect but not for her.

Dark secrets known and understood by only them, will never be from lips released. Love held still, never broached or revealed. They make a bond, a pact, a seal, impossible to break.

Beauty walks the stretch of seamless sand as waves lap upon the shore, she is linked lovingly within a mother's arm. They, two women, adore him as he stands there beneath the arbor, breeze disheveling his hair. That smile they both have come to love beyond all smiles, the body both have touched but only one can keep.

Today she gives away her daughter, releases her last love and abandons all foolish hope.

Created for The Tenth Daughter of Memory "White Lies Belie a Darker Truth"


  1. very nice baino...beautiful prose...heart breaking in a sense...could lead to some interesting...oh never mind...

  2. Reverse Rumpelstiltskin? Aw...

  3. Uh-huh. Lovely writing: illuminating, like the light glowing from behind the curtain, revealing just enough to...

  4. Oh gosh! I wondered where this was going. You had me every step of the way. And besides the story hooking me, I liked the flow of your writing in this very much!

  5. you do have a wonderful way with words.

  6. Very interesting story. Well told. Very well told.

  7. "He is perfect, but not for her." Great line.

  8. Your hints to the ending were well crafted and subtle.