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31 October 2007 @ 07:55 am
They are just shapes. Shapes that fit together into other shapes and make up a body. But the shapes have changed, the body new.

But despite that, the new shapes remember an older touch, a touch that would no longer recognize these lines, curves and harder edges. There is no rearrangement that can fully destroy that, only lessen it, fade it, make those memories small and distant.

The new line of a muscle around the top of my arm has no memory of him. This hardness at the back of my leg never knew him. There were curves that did, and those have been erased.

Drawing new lines, erasing old ones. Drawing in other bodies, next to this one, occassionally awkwardly intertwined. And erasing them again when it is clear their shapes fit into the picture no better than the last.

But always, always, reaching in, through the ever-changing flesh and bone, to feel for that heart, the one whose shape I know and have always known, the one whose shape does not change. The shape I can trace in the air with my fingers, and feel as though it has dimension. The shape that fits.
Lavra: Words like violenceelf_owl on October 31st, 2007 03:40 pm (UTC)
Beautifully said.
bodhiceabodhicea on October 31st, 2007 03:56 pm (UTC)
Thank you
thisisthenow on October 31st, 2007 04:18 pm (UTC)

And: the mantra too.