agraphia
“If this is madness, I said to myself, breathing his atmosphere exquisite almost to sanctification, madness is something very beautiful.”
the girl writes on the floor with a parakeet by her side. scratching, scratching. goes the bird. it pulls at the girl’s hair, line by line, with its sharp beak. green and gold with red feathers. the girl is blue. from sapphires or sadness. the bird cannot tell. blue diamonds are the deepest to be dug out of the earth's mantel. it’s where the girl presides. she sought grounding and was greeted by depression. she pushes the bird toward the window; there are no shutters or bars. just the white light streaming in from the clouds. the bird won’t budge. it loves the girl, or it's too comfortable. contentment is a curse. the girl bobs her hair close to her jawline, so the bird has less space to burrow. she fills pages with words she hasn’t uttered in centuries. I love you. how are you? I am here for you. she says to the bird and there is never a response. validation is a necessary form of forgiveness. one day the girl rises to repeat herself, and the bird is gone. she finds red feathers under the pillows. sapphires on the floor. she opens the door and the walls are red. sunrise bleeds its heart onto the girl's hands, and she marvels at the magnificence.
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