Voices Project.
Old heart.
Love is what makes the heart young and what makes being alive worthwhile. Meeting in the 20s I remember, he led me onto the floor. I had ringlets then, now my face and skin curls instead, I a monstrosity of my years remain unchanging throughout this. The skip in my heart shows me I can have youth again.

Young heart.
I sit there, crayons in my hands, hair scrunched in braids over my shoulders, tissue on standby for spillages. You stand there also, and you are the tall tall tree that hovers above me. Always near, and always covering me in your blanket of shadow. I am minuscular under this shelter of your branches, together we are the perfection of companionship. You, the shade from the rain and I, the glue of pieces of your broken spirit, the picker-upper of leaves that break off from you. The tie of purpose in your heart.

Abandonment.
I crawl. Scream. Scratch. Tunnels and doorways and train-rides I travel I’m the depth of the night. Hands clawed like a wolf I am outstretched and I stop nowhere.

Voice of Enchantment.
She spoke to me. Crystal clear voice of light and air. Her body shuddered forward as the words fell out and her heart leaped as she spilt out the words ‘love conquers all.’