Salud

Lady Gaga/Madonna: PERFECT DISCOLLUSION

The price seemed to dear.  The memories too true.  With a flash, he could selectively memorize the twists the turns, forget that which goes against.  Maybe he was the fool.  He would smile and point out: that maybe it was she.  It was her.

It was pure, once.  Like so much.  Indeed it was good, so good that it made her forget, even if only for a moment, that her mask so precious was allowed to slip.  If only for the moment.  He saw her for her; and she was beautiful.

This is something she could never accept.  She had been taught, even told, from a very young age, that her beauty did not make her special.  Indeed, her priests, her parents, her peers seemed to reinforce that it was her beauty of body and of soul that made her ugly.  That she would have to live a life of penance for an action so grievous.  Sadly, she was a fool to believe it.

So it was.  She watched from the bushes.  Forever afraid that others might see her for who she thought she was, and reject her.  Then events happened.  Maybe in her neighborhood, maybe in the cloistered confines of  a crammed corner of a camp in Colorado.  Hands ravenous ran over that which she was told was precious to a point.  The defiling of her soul matched the corruption of her body.

The she met him.  Or was it he that met her.  Or was it merely the momentary touch; a glance allowed by the fates.  They had a moment... for whatever that was worth.  A moment of blessing?  A moment of curse?  Does it matter?  She was accepted totally by him, and he?  Well she let him think that.

Then she retreated.  The bush would no longer suffice.  Now she would hang, she would cleave to the shadows.  If they did not exist, then by god she would create them.  That is where she was safe.  She could lie in the shadows, and in the shadows... they would provide the half light that would add life to her lies.    Her beauty, that which he had seen, was gone.  It could have been in remission, it could have been sublimated by the caustic poison of the facade that ate into her soul, birthing its gangrene.  Salud.

If your a strong female you don't need permission... only problem was that she wasn't one of the strong ones.