... As inside the golden locket, where all walls glitter with delight and yet howl with empty ache of the past... .sits a doll øff two parts.  A part of life forgiven    ||   A part of life forgotten The doll, inside the glitter halls or ice and gild is barefoot on a fiery throne. Inside her eyes so many mirrors. She sits and ponders, trying to pull the gaps and cracks together. With winged horses in her hair. And air beneath her feet. Inside the sand she stores her memories, like secrets in her childhood under glass domes. In soil. Her past. Wishing for frequencies that are distant and imagined. Inside her locket.  Inside the glitter walls. Where air is filled with magic blossoms. And nothing even dies. A part of life forgiven  She swipes away the soil and glances inside the little marvels. Little domes she called secrets. Messages hiding past reckonings. Flowers and texts, joys and stones. Parts of hair and nails. Blood tissues and healed patches, on particles of skin. Hopeful, littl