Samuel Barber - Adagio For Strings

and she's standing at the window watching the snow falling
flakes and clumps and the whiteness is covering over everything she's ever known.
all the darkness and the mould and the dirt
and the hatred and the nightmares and the loneliness
packed into the ground and buried beneath the snow
while she watches it falling from the oasis of light,
the island of warmth against the winter's embrace on her bare skin
but ask her tomorrow and she won't hesitate.
the snow's reminding her of things best left forgotten,
quashing the memories she'd rather recall.
she's lost in this silent, heavy white world that's hiding all that is familiar.
she's watching it bury her life like she's filling her own grave
and a tear runs down her cheek and she wipes it away
and she turns from the window and goes to be held
but there's nobody there in the room, no other soul to be seen.
she's alone in the house, blocked in by the snow.
so she turns back to the window. they fall faster now.
and there's light,
light illuminating snowflakes like fairies, light like a saviour,
a neighbour's safeguard against thieves,
and they've stolen her little piece of the darkness, stolen it all
and she turns still in tears to the wall
with its words of encouragement, stitched by an aunt.
tears it, rips it, encouragements gone.
they'll be buried with the rest under the snow when she's strong
and can open the door.
but now, watch her fall to the ground -
oh god, how she falls, and her face is a mask
and she's lonely and sobbing but there's no one left to hear how
she fades slowly to silence
in this hot little kitchen without the cold of the snow
that's leeching the strength from her bones.
all she feels is the touch of his hand on hers as they sat together
so apart so young so misunderstood and defying expectations
with his hand on hers ripped apart gone forever.
she hates herself for crying - she stands.
takes the encouragement from the floor
and walks to the door, key in hand, bitter metal of hers.
she's in the snow. lying down.
and it continues to fall, covering over everything she's ever known. 

The End

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