Beautiful Things Break Quietly

The crust of pillowy white lay at the ridges of the window. Flowing outward as a long bridal train adorned with lace tulips. The hand across my chest falls to my side— limp Pulled downward to the floor which I believed was rising and sinking beneath my feet. My breath caged within razes the walls of my lungs unwilling to trace the passage again in reverse. Sound denied remains absent from my ears. Yet, I alone know the grating of my nails along the wooden desk was not silent. My eyes forced to see what they do not desire, hold every detail captured in the image, sealing them to memory. The bonded silhouettes increase my watery blur. Finally, release comes in erratic gasps steadying my decisions and stance. Removing the circular band— oaths betrayed, again. I place it above the lit screen of my phone. The need for anything beyond my name doesn't arise. This beautiful dream slips into the past with the click of the front door and the letting go of the knob. The people met in passing made the necessary distance to the nearby station seem not alone. The beige coat wrapped around my shoulders provides protection from the icy wind urging me backward. This is enough.