There was darkness.
I was on the verge of traveling, yet to where I do not know.
He was there, my first love.
Even in the dark cold of the icy region I felt protected.
There was a sense of knowledge and of warm understanding.
He left the safety of the truck to follow me into a home. Inside were shards of my life.
There were no lights. Just a glowing and soundless fireplace. The flames cast shadows that turned into the faces of those I’d known. I would reach out to touch them, but before my fingertips could graze the dark masks, they were gone.
Suddenly, I was outside. Icy winds whipped furiously, threatening to frost delicate skin. Yet there was no feeling. Simply a sense of urgency and the realization that I was in the midst of a funeral.
I wanted to know why.
Looking down I saw a coffin. It was being lowered into a swirling, see green of wetness. Bits of bone mixed with seaweed assaulted my eyes.
Turning I reached into the darkness, hoping to connect with the warmth of my lovers body. But all I felt was my purse.
Reaching inside I found a pot of pink lipstick.
Quickly I applied the pink potion to my trembling mouth and knew that it (the lipstick) would hide the fear.
I dreamt of the Arctic.
An old truck.
My first lover and pink lipstick…