fragments or something like it

i. she's tucked in the corner of the bookstore's floor, slaving over words that spiral like the tails of dragonflies, and her sadness is confused for beauty. she doesn't notice the way they stare at her as they wander past, useless dabbling, as if they'll be struck with purpose if they can recite the titles of fevered novels. sparrow eyed, she continues soaking up the aches of other times to ruin the one that startles against the back of her knees.

ii. three years ago, he had a dream that birds had teeth and pebbles could cry and water painted the sky. he wrote his miserable findings down in a notebook and somehow, someone or another got their hands on it, this masterpiece they exclaimed, praising the curve of his palms, and they fed it to the greedy throats that yelped with sympathy but really, they were just looking to make a fast buck without splitting open their guts.

iii. 'did you know that hyenas sing just as beautifully as wolves do, and yet we still claim they're luckless scavengers?' she isn't talking to anyone, really, as her mouth softens over their anguish. she does not pretend to understand and she does not dirty their feelings. instead, she savors them and reminds herself that everyone is alone, e v e r y o n e i s a l o n e.

'excuse me?'

she tips her chin up, slow to let go of the pages before her.

'what do you think of that book?'

she blinks and frees the crows trapped between her jaws. 'i wish i was brave enough to hurt like this.'

he nods and sits down beside her on the floor. 'bravery is just expensive.'

she slants her gaze away to the pile of books beside her, waiting for her tender fingers to caress their spines, make them tremble. 'oh but so is imagination.'

iv. oh but so is love.