And it's as if the universe wanted to be cruel
and take her away.  No, she is not dead but I feel her leathery soul crumbling as the walls stand tall and block her from reaching my outstretched hand. I fidget, tremble while applying my mascara and the brush falls into the sink. ****, No, I won't ..cry.... and I see her growing distant drowning in the black rivers. ****....I didn't even say ....good- but I shake my head from that thought. God I am a mess staring into the mirror but then my side feels a pressure and my neck arouse in her memory...****....Ummm.....No, NO. Where is she anyway.....and why are my rivers black.....thats right mascara....