Earlier there were windows that opened to give glimpses of faces, with the hint of a smile that gave a moment’s relief before they faded into oblivion.
Earlier I kept my window open to let in a whiff of the breeze carrying a fragrance that freshened for a while the toxic suffocation of my room with the door securely bolted, locked from stormy winds that knocked, sometimes rattled it to the hinges. But now, just a few years from the precipice I have thrown open my door for the storm to enter to spray my hair, shake me out of stupor, with that bold, mature woman blue jeans, black top, scrutinizing eyes, cruel lips standing at the threshold her silhouette emitting lightning that enters my body and makes me feel the rainbow inside me at last.
