There Is No God, There Is Only

She’s Not As Pretty As You,” I Said “but She’s A Simpler Girl,” My Mother Whispered.

In A Train...smash. In His Arm Her Last...breath.' He Had Loved Her. But He Hated Himself More. Such Suffering, So Much Pain. And He Thought It Made Him Hateful. As If Suffering Was Shameful, Disgusting, As If Pain Were A Crime. Who Can Judge Another Man's Suffering?

How Easy I Was. Like A Limpet I Attached Myself To Anything, Anyone Who Showed Me The Least Attention.

I Felt Suddenly Cruel, Like I´d Told Dmall Children There Was No Tooth Fairy, That It Was Just Their Mom Sneaking Into Their Room After They Went To Bed.

So Much Wanting And Longing, Clutching, Desiring, Passion And Hatred And Terrible Need. Here, Death Was Suitable, There Was Room For It, The Grip Of Life's Relentless Urges Slackened, Replaced By This Icy Simplicity. This Wasnt Her Death. It Was His. That Was The Sad And Honest Truth. Though It Would Stay With Her, It Would Be More Like A Black Onyx Heart On A Silver Chain, Worn Privately, Under Her Clothes, Close To Her Body, All Her Life. The Guilt, The Beauty, Everything. It Wasnt Over, It Had Only Begun. Well Ok Then, Okay.