An Ever-So-Clean Blue

limp heads, rust on the edge of the teeth, worn-out mothers after work and spiteful children, screaming, I could remember your hand on the thigh of the woman in blue, an ever-so-clean blue, so much useless life these days, and the night is too long to remember your hand on those thighs, ever so clean, they told me I need to get some sleep, I laughed wildly because they were talking about a woman who pretended she was lonely, that's so sad, your eyes on your hands on those thighs, and I, the woman who remembered, in the bathroom, taking off my clothes, with a frightened old lady, on an ever-so-clean bathroom, I washed myself in the sink because I stank, out of every hole, I stank of filth and wrath so, all cleaned up, came the time to say good-bye, explaining it was getting late, you were smiling without taking your hand away from that thigh, while I, I dripped, out of every hole, before the horror show returned. remembering.

BRUNA MITRANO was born in 1985 in Rio de Janeiro. She teaches at public schools and is pursuing her Master's Degree in Portuguese Literature. 

In 2008, she took part in a project entitled “Literary Life and Intellectual Circuits” under the supervision of Ítalo Moriconi. Two years later, she was among the recipients of the Off Flip Award in the Short Story category.

She also writes for Mallarmargens, an online literary magazine. Some of her material has also been published in Jornal Plástico Bolha, Fórum Virtual de Literatura e Teatro, Germina, and other internet websites.

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