2011 Issue - Santa Fe Community College

it beautiful. I bet they made you love it. Some one did that to me once,
made me love myself.
I wanted to paint this wall between us purple, blue and gold. The
gold was you. The deep indigo made by the melting purple and blues was
me. You were something I couldn’t touch, or come close to inhabiting. I
would always be deep and dark. You would always be welcome on top of
that shining mountain, Olympus. The day I was counting the veins lining
your throat, I also saw the tracks on the inside crease of your arm.
Red roses blooming, a garden of pain and desire. A history of temptation.
In the end, what more was this than broken glass in the carpet I
heard you tell your mother, or someone I assume was your mother. You
had that tone of voice that was guarded and yet yearned for some kind of
prodding. Some question beyond the subject of days and work. That was
the day before you jumped. Maybe if she had questioned how thin your
thighs were, or how the skin across your rib cage stretched until each
protruding bone showed itself like a delicate instrument. Maybe if she
listened to your breathing the way I did, she’d have heard it.
On your descent you soared past my window. The wind had pulled up
the straps of your dress, trying to coax out the feathers that would lead
you to Olympus. There was no sound when you hit. When I stuck my
head out the window I saw how life had truly tarnished your shine. The
moon illuminated your skin against the blood and you were a white rose.
I wanted you to breathe me. I couldn’t cry, even after your mother
came to gather your stuff. The landlady was right. You were a sullen girl.
I just wanted you to breathe me.
16 Santa Fe Literary Review