No one could find the edge of her heart – truth is, there were no edges. The love she had for everyone and everything was infinite.. and it was reciprocated. I don’t know of anyone who wasn’t in awe of her – just by the presence of her. She had that special something that no one else ever had – ever could have. She was generous to a fault. But her eyes… her eyes are what you remembered best, they could pierce through you with the intensity of a hundred stars – the brightest lighthouse on a foggy night. When she looked at you she saw you like no one else. That’s what made her special.
That’s what drew the waves up to cover her body, to reach her face, to cascade down her nose and into her lungs. The waves reached her that day, right inside of her, wanting what she had. That’s what took her life on that cold November day. She knew that nothing could ever come close to the love she lost. She was intuitive that way.
She couldn’t stand the heartache. She could take needles and knives, torturous pain, but breaking her heart means breaking the girl.
No one could find the edge of her heart. Truth is, there were no edges.
M.
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