and if I had your faith.

There a string. It attached to her chest, interweaved and strung as if the skin was pleated. Imagine the tug. So with each puff, a corresponding body inhales in an ironic attempt at breath. She gasps its hurts. The near nylon thread pulls hard and close her soft skin until a liquid finds it way through and drips down the clear line. Her voice heightened by each jerk as she cries. Sharp lightening branching out into her heart and shoulders piercing in pulses. Rips and tears Make believe it to unhappen. Pretend there is no one on the other end; a cause to the effect. Her hands are clinched desperately to the blankets she was wrapped in for relief. Birthmark-like countries of red across the cotton. A girl, another with knots around her fingertips: ten fingers, ten strings, ten years. Source: lifts her index for a parallel reaction, a matching tangible sound for her harmless curiosity. The wounded body shakes a little and she can hear hissing whispers. Its making sound now. A giggle here and there, but mostly outdated voices. These things have no purpose she saysAnd its louder now. Lines are stretching, pulling, till the twine threatens a final snap.
A deafening saturation of the air with sounds and voices and singing and thoughts never mouthed and earsplitting sun that melted the blinds. Faster and quicker and sharper and louder, leave her alone let her go where you found her. love her ya know? quite insanely she says over her shoulder to nothing. Then she leans in and catches her red wet eyes to clearly vocalize: always loved you, doll. I was just intrigued, I wanted to know what would happen, I had to see it for my own eyes, I had to touch the fire, curiosity killed ya know? .stop crying. The wounded remembers to forget English. Her lips firmly shaking closed. She lifts her shaking hands with spotted red across her palms. Her fingertips sliding up the thread, a grasp. She pulls til the line is thin, an increasing radius of the audience lids from the black whole inside the hazel and gold. The intertwined lines shred the edges of skin as the watching face is splattered and blemished. And blood rises to her lips, riming and sliding down her chin, she wipes it with her hand ,leans forward. She skims up her neck and her new steady hand proves determination. Slightly choking the aging threat she closes in and says sideways in her ear: You're nothing.