Monday, December 21, 2015

Hilary D Zamora writes and draws

"The docile nature of her movements lent her unprecedented grace. Grace I tried to respect and mimic, the ways of a swan among crows. She was the swan. (In more ways than one. Can swans fly? She flew away.) I constantly felt intimidated in our friendship because I knew deep down that she could break away from me easily, without looking back. I adored her to no end and the more I wanted to keep her, the further away she'd slip. I would try and fail repeatedly to act like our friendship wasn't as important as it really was to me. Her mercury glass eyes would shift, darkening to a deep green-grey, as the tempest brewing inside her would arrive suddenly and unannounced." ~Hilary D Zamora

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