A palace of her own undoing
a desolate place of raw red meat and even redder wine
sustenance, nourishment, sunsets, exquisite paintings, cocktail of the unsaid.
They talked that night
with honesty, finally
and it was not unkind or untrue.
He looked at the ceiling. she looked at the candles
crossed her legs
neath a long french silk night gown
the instability
"every couple of months"
he said, with exhaustion and hurt and confusion.
She wanted to go back to hospital
just for the weekend
"like, for a top up"
she said with forced flippancy
just to get some help, press the "reset"
as one might visit an erstwhile lover, nurse, pancea and guardian\as one might go home for the weekend
"I am cracking up, just a little" she did not say.
"I dont want someone who...
is in and out of hospital every month
I deserve better"
Yes you do, but that's not me and you are being unfair
I am so much more than that.
I am amazing.
He doesnt get the spiritual ailment, why she cant just sort the pills out herself and Get Better.
"You were so much better"
"I was going to meetings and handing it over"
"Yes, but it was the medicine right?"
"No, it was meetings and God"
As she says it she understands how distorted it sounds to an atheist.
His cold blue eyes confirm it
the words trickle off, she puts him to bed
and as they blow out the candles
only a fool would not know
it was over
