Tales of girl

Actually she is more an apparition

I peruse her pulse and study the synapses

spelunk a cave in her subconscious

 

we sat on that autumn bench unguarded

but in her mind, we are no longer there

 

now it is

reductionist decrees and the oft cast aspersions

the princess has spoken

with no hint of weakness 

just

revisionist eyes to reveal my vilification 

 

Her edification assures no weakness

no damage done, nor fissures to repair

a reeducation for her momentarily exposed heart

a reinsulation of a momentary journey to emotion

a grave for that bench and a gulag for the heart