Childhood - died on March 23, 2013. I

saw death approaching as a crashing

down wave on the altar. For the first time,

I put my mask on of berry blush and

charcoal liner onto old eyes and baby fat

cheeks. With each step down the aisle, the

mask became tighter, face suction-cupped 

happy. I felt the words bubble in my

throat. Mouth fixed, teeth clenched to

trap objection. I did not want to hold in

peace but the wave overcame innocence.

It roared in my ear, soaked my lavender

dress, tripping me— or maybe my silver

stilettos tripped on my youth. The

objection chuckled, fixing his

nothing-out-of-place gray notched lapels.

Not a wrinkle to be found but I can see

lies deep within hidden ones. Violet sand

was filled and the kiss of violence was

sealed. A bitter taste coated my mouth as

I snuck sips of wine to wash away the grit

stuck on my tongue. The taste lingered,

followed me to the car, to that house, and

smeared itself on the walls. I painted

those walls a deep shade of sangria. The

color once beautiful became chipped and

worn and bitten. Within just nine months,

the color faded to sickening lavender.