The anguish flew from her open mouth.
It had grown inside her monstrously.
And now free,
it took flight like a murmuration of starlings.
A dark ribbon of pure pain,
that twisted and unfurled on its way out over the lake.
Her every bone, sinew and muscle
had become a projector,
that amplified her hurt,
then blasted it out into the world.
She expelled it with such violence,
that it left a ragged vacuum,
left the place where their love had lived, empty.
To fill it, nature flattened the plants towards her,
the trees strained to curl around her.
But in the end,
she stood alone,
over the grave of her best friend.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 