We had gone all over town that day; I was taking pictures of her because we’d forgotten how to talk to each other. She posed here, laughing in her heels and party dress, delighted at how the ruin made her more beautiful. As we were leaving she darted back and pushed on the panel; she liked the heavy clunk of the lock against the weathered wood. That’s you, she said, that’s the door inside your heart. She didn’t mean it to be cruel, it was just the way she was.
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Christina Collins lived most of her life on the West Coast until the omnipresent terminus of the sea became too demanding. She currently resides in Minneapolis where she writes, paints, and takes pictures of beautiful strangers without their knowledge. She is the founder and poetry editor of Lockjaw Magazine. She tweets at @PoorSelfControl.