A Drenched Soul

February 17, 2008
By Ashley Erin Watson, Madison, MS

She is cold.
Freezing cold.
Her frozen heart wishes to forget…
Forget the world,
Forget the warmth,
Forget the love…
Or lack there of.

Curled in an enormous ball on the shag carpet,
The flickering flames before her,

With tears silently sliding down her deeply rose-colored cheeks.
She ignores the sticking thorns of the dead rose
And the blood squeezing out of her palm.
The wilted flower is crumpled and blackened,
Just like her soul.

She gasps heavily as her love did,
Fighting the water.
Fighting for air.
Fighting for life.
His picture hangs above the fire,
Straight and neat
Like his naval uniform.

The tiny feet softly kick within her,
And she clutches her black tent of a stomach.
Hearing the bugles sound,
She rises slowly,
Gripping the rose,
And proceeds to bid her love farewell
In his final deployment.

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