Southern Legitimacy Statement: Despite being born in Sin City, I was raised on I-95, traveling and living in all the states between the Mason Dixon Line and the Florida Everglades, always finding home in a North Carolinian sleepy, coastal town.
A dance with the devil when the music won’t stop
Maybe she’d done something early on in her life that had cursed her unknowingly which caused the misfortunes she’s suffered throughout her life; not that she deserved it, but just that she’d just been too unlucky in life to discount the possibility. She sat and stared out the window with my broken parents acting as the bookends of her life, all wondering how much more her fragile heart could take before it just gave up. A failed attempt to make it to the alter and a lover in his grave; I know men three times her tiny size taken down by half as much heart ache, but everyone has their breaking point. We all held hands and prayed this this would not be hers and that the scars on her heart could keep her tied to this world. The winter’s sun shone through her translucent skin and hid in the frailty of my parent’s salt and pepper hair, while we all wondered what evil thing was coming next.
