January 20th, Year of Silence

This was after I learned about witchcraft, but not by much. This was after I learned about the futility of the twin raven wisdom, but not by much. This was even after I learned about the magical properties of ancient words, but not by much. It was on that night that I noticed a decade. I was introduced to it with formality, as it punched through to my heart. My father with lines marking his face, detailing every emotion he could not control. My mother with the corners of her mouth pointing toward an earth she wishes to rest in.

 
The sun is no longer as bright. The radio has been silenced. Mother no longer likes to dance. Her perfumes are all perfectly lined on her vanity, caps missing, and fragrance gone. She no longer wears makeup. There is no more façade, carefully constructed by a savage pride, hoping to inspire dignity. It is all lost under swollen feet, cracked toes, cheap shoes.

Mother stares out into the street. There is nothing. And when there was, she saw nothing

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January 20th, Year of Silence

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