there was something about the way she always listened to music. she always has earbuds in, no matter who she was with, no matter where she was. the supermarket, the restaurant, even at home, where she barricaded her own in her room, where she could have a few times of peace and silence, she always had those earbuds, with such melodies playing with only the sounds could describe her lonely consciousness.
there was something about the way she had a multitude of blankets strewn upon her bed. it was full, nothing but quilts with colored flannel, light cotton, and soft satin; to shield her from the monsters that reside at night. id like to think that her bed was a lot like herself, colorful and welcoming.
there was something about the way she kept herself up until the early morning hours. 3am, her favorite hour, her favorite number. while we were asleep, our lungs filled with chilly wind coming from with window to the east, the fan to the north & our mind filled with sweet dreams of our other half. she, on the other hand, remained awake. staring at the clock on the wall to the west. listening to the quiet and short ticks of the grandfather clock down the hall; she liked that there were such forces that couldn't be stopped.
there was something about the way she smiled; so bright, so beautiful, so brilliant, sorrow filled. the butterflies would escape my stomach, just as the way the sun dropped at night to let the dark sky and the moon live; slowly, then all at once. her smile made me feel at home, the kind that makes me happy to be alive, she makes me feel just a little but more human.
{brooklynn mohn}
{August thirty-first, two thousand fourteen}
