She looked into his
dark eyes as the sun was setting behind the stained glass window….
She ran her warm hands around his cold cheeks… Ran her small finger over his
hard lips…
Can lips be hard? Indeed.
If the things the utter can cause pain for years to come….
She colored her days the color of hope… Yellow is for hope…
She colored all her days yellow…
Ran her fingers over his hard lips….
Inside those insolent black eyes lies her idea of salvation….
She ran her fingers over his hard lips…
She clawed at the marble face….
She fell on the floor …
The floor is white…
White is the color of death….
Red is the color of sunset…
Red tinted white marble, like mother’s milk with blood…
She wrapped her yellow shawl tighter around her shoulders
She dropped a coin into the donation box…
She’ll be back same time tomorrow…