Magdalene always was a force unto herself.

She was oil in water, asteroids against gravity,
evolution on dinosaurs than succumb to it,
she was psychedelic, florescent, electric in every way,
she was freshly mown grass and burnt candles,
she was rich warm cream and delicate peaches,
she was never ending summer evenings spent under oaks,
she was the colours of autumn and the passion of artists,
she was short owl feathers and biblical pelicans,
she was vulcanic matter bubbling beneath forgotten seas,
she was golden hay rustling in gentle breeze,
she was the mortality of a clear sky in April.

Skies, endless ones... in April, May, June, July,
every month of every year,
she'd lie and watch the sky stretch on forever above her
and lose herself in the unfathomable beauty of it;
the lazy crawling of clouds,
the majesty of royal eagles
the kaleidoscope patterns
of dust caught in the wind.
Some days, Magdalene lived for the skies alone.
Some days, nothing else in the world mattered.

-:-

And then it happened.
One day,
just like that.

On a new summer under cloudless perfect skies,
she met a young man with dimples in his cheeks
and bright red curls crowing his head,
a man who wrote poetry and songs and fantasies
a man who read constellations and blues and eyes
a man who believed in tarot and magic and love.

He understood -or so he said- the want for skies.
He knew how to love a woman
and Magdalene found herself captured,
almost like watching wind in a sparrow's feathers,
hypnotised by the soft charm of his voice
and his manner
and his touch
until she was his entirely,
blossom caught in a turbulence.

-:-

They would lie together in a meadow
and stare at the Heaven above.
He'd hold her close and they'd talk,
losing themselves in each other's worlds,
happy just to be.
there seemed nothing that they couldn't share,
no thoughts or feelings that they would conceal
and words never appeared to elude them.

One day, as she watched the sky tint itself orange
from the safety of his arms in the meadow
she said,
“If you could do anything, anything at all,
what would you do?”
and he smiled and traced the delicate contort of her collarbone
and said “Maggie,” he said, “I'd build you an Empire.”
She giggled and blew stranded grass out of his burning curls.
“And what would you built it out of?” she asked.
His smile could of contained the entire galaxy.
His eyes danced with unspoken sunlight.
“Isn't it obvious?” he said,
spreading his arms wide so his palms mapped the sky above them.
“I'd build it out of this.”

And Magdalene knew what it felt like to be in love.

-:-

This time, they were strolling through the woods,
deep and dense and skyless in full autumn,
hand in hand as always they would be.
It was raining hard, drops crashing into the ground and drowning,
millions of wet suicide bombers,
and so he claimed that open spaces were a bad idea.
He'd brush away the sodden strands of golden hair from her eyes
and ask “Maggie,” he'd ask,
“If you could do anything, anything at all,
what would you do?”
and she closed her eyes tight and thought of flaming stars,
rushing feathers and the sun hitting upon wandering clouds
and said, “I'd re-paint the entire world.”

His pace slowed and his eyes grew quiet,
no hint of hidden songs or stars behind them.
“Why would you do that?” he demanded,
no melody of breeze layered between his tone.
When she spoke she was miles away,
spinning through endless skies.
“Because the world's so damn beautiful
I want to say I had a part in it,
I want to say I was there.”
she said,
and the for the first time silence fell like a wall between them.

And Magdalene knew what it felt like to be afraid.

-:-

The sky was fading into grey, signs of winter taking it's toll.
They hid inside with a painting of clear skies
placed strategically over a boarded window.
They sat either side of a wooden table,
smiles and hands locked together underneath it,
familiarity weaving its way between them.
His guitar lay dusty in a corner, her eyes had grown far too dark.
Not a sign of blue lay in the house,
because he'd assured her that that's what growing up meant.

One day, he came home with a bounce in his step
and a surprised promised just for her.
“Darling,” he said, for he had long since stopped calling her 'Maggie',
“darling, come see what I got you!”
she forced herself up and followed him,
where he stood proudly besides a veiled mystery.
“Honey, I brought you a piece of sky!” he said,
letting the cloth spill from hard strong bars
trapping two birds so beautiful and colourful
they looked like miniture lost paintings.
She could only stare transfixed,
the hideous bars of the cage blurring in front of her
and breaking her heart into thousands of spectrums.

When he spoke next it was cutting.
“They're cockatoos,” he said, “they mate for life.
And, when one of them leaves, the other one dies,”
he kissed her hard on the mouth and left the room,
left her with the cage of helpless shards of sky.

And Magdalene knew what it felt like to be trapped.

-:-

One day she woke up besides him
and the blinds of her bedroom were sealed shut.
She got up and tiptoed to the window, when-

-a hard hand came smashing down on her shoulder,
a breathy whisper in her ear.
“No, Darling.”
tears started to form and overflow
stars made of crystal crashing from her eyes.
“But... but... it's so dark!” she chocked, one hand still
clawing helplessly against the blinds,
like birds' hopes against iron bars.

He leant close, pulling her into his arms.
He swept the tears away,
and moved so his lips stroked against her ear.
“If one leaves, the other dies, remember?”
was all he said.

And Magdalene knew what it felt like to be dead inside.

-:-

Spring was forming,
soft clouds colliding just beyond her vision.
She woke up without him in her bed, as was usual nowadays.
She creaked her way down dingy stairs
having long lost the electricity and florescence
along with her dreams about wide open skies.
Instead, she thought of dark lost rooms
and birdcages and children with red hair and lies.

“Maggie.”
he said.
She froze, floods of memories glazing just beneath
the surface of her reality.
It had been so long, so very very long...
He lay crouched by the birdcage, his back to her.
“Maggie,” he said,
and his voice broke in a way that was almost familiar.
Almost.
“I'm so sorry.”
And then, slowly,
he turned to face her
and she saw the tears spilling down his cheeks
and the pale bloody claw marks on his arms
and the broken feathered body she loved and hated
so much, lying strangled in his hands.
“It was an accident...”

But she's already dashed past him,
fists pounding against long locked doors.
He was after her in a flash,
danger of daggers in his eyes,
murdered carcass cast aside in a pool of crimson.

If it were possible to hear a heard breaking,
it would resemble the piercing cries of the
helpless trapped songbird still locked away
or the dry dead echo of Magdalene's fists
against the solid doors that kept her locked.

And so she fought and fought,
breaking paper bars,
and spreading plastic wings,
a frenzy of uncontrollable wants mixed with
need.
  And when she broke out through the splinters
  and felt the light from the open shine down on her,
  before he came crashing through with razor like blades,
  in that moment before it really hit down upon her
  with a tormented scream,
  the force of an unstoppable hurricane,
  she lifted her face up to the blazing sun
  and opened her eyes wide.

“But.. I couldn't see the sky.”

she whispered through a silent rainfall of tears,
          and then he reached her,
                         and it was over...

And Magdalene knew what it felt like to be set free.