Flowers for a Ghost
The sun shone brilliantly. The market stalls were crowded around. There was a great exuberance amongst its people. The city's laughter resonated to all places within reach.
Sakura's eyes were to the sky. The laughter wound about her. Its unadulterated glee bound her to the bitterness that she had long since overcome. She looked away.
The grass here was wild. Its arms were long and thin. The wind had its voice and it spoke to all who would lend their ear. The trees yearned for the clouds and the rain and they yearned for the trees in response.
Here - in the midst of vivid, vibrant life – stood a stone.
She kneeled by its face. Her fingers reached to its polished surface: retracting almost at the moment of contact. The cruel words were scarred in its face. The words that she had for those who had marred it were expertly caught and captured.
"To you…"
She swept her hands down to rest on what she had hidden in the grasses. It was cool and sensually smooth. She sighed. Her eyes ached with an ancient pain.
"Always,"
It had not been her. It could not have been her.
Never.
"Always,"
She devoured the words that she so longed so share.
Author's Note: I believe that my own feelings can be surmised from this. I am at a complete and utter loss. My writing is suffering too. It is almost my twin in that respect. I suppose that this could be included as a mystery. I do not write mystery. I cannot. I have not the mind for complex matters – merely vagueness.
Thank you for choosing to read my work. I do hope that you have enjoyed what I have provided. I apologise if you are disappointed in my torment.