I think she has been hiding something all these years.
She has a twin, hauntingly real. She is warm when she is defensive, soft when she swallowed pain, but she is not young. She hopes like silent sun rays.
The faceless features she clutched between her palms in the dark, he was bright like her too. It was only her who can see his light. Where is your face?
The rays were not blinding but she smells the dew spreading down her eyes in the dark. Heart on cloud speed and he shimmers like an unstable star, far but close enough for you to witness his existence.
It is a thin gold band, there will be white laces. There will be no one in the room but one shimmering star.
But where is your face?
on and across
with her thumb.
The angle traced into memory. They shared one same trance, anytime and everywhere.
So there will be windows, garden, kitchen, little hers and little hims.