There is still dirt under my nails from the last time I yearned to dig the path way for this river. I still remember the water falls that used to pour down my head and give me headaches. i still remember how scared I was to slip again on rocks and wound myself again.
The river was bluish, calm and shinny.
It hasn’t been like that for longer than I ever remember
I look at my nails, I wave them her side, but she’s sewing her eyelids, looking at the biggest fish in my depth.
“This fish is too big for you” she mentions
“Remember the last time I couldn’t open this river for anyone? Look at my nails” I said
She takes off her boots, so full of dirt and she starts washing them in my river.
I fill a bucket, I wash it away
“This big fish is taking a huge space” she says
I look at the fish right down the depth my river, (golden); shinning in each edge in the mighty dark.
I put my hands in the river to pat this fish, I smile. The dirt under my nails fades little by little
She gets out a rope and chains my hands together “look over here” she says
(She had eyes for things I had no eyes for)
I try to cut off the chain with rocks but I ended bleeding in the river.
Blood flushing everywhere..
“This fish isn’t golden” she says
I look at the red river, walls between the golden fish and my hands. Huge gigantic walls. I somehow still knew how to reach it with my toes and it’s fins .
(Something connected us no matter how red the river was)
Needle; a very pointy thing that is used to sew things together
That’s what she did with my lips.
I keep moving my head from her to the fish and from the fish to her. Until I got dizzy.
I can’t do this anymore, I think
I look at my nails, still full of dirt from digging for you a path right here to my river. I can still remember how scared I was to slip on rocks and I did.
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