jan 01, 2025 [ 12:00am ]
i breathe out a huff of smoke, standing in the corner of a dimly lit street. around me people chatter and pass, their razor sharp gaze and words of venom disguised as grace. sighing, i drop my cigarette and crush it with the heel of my boot before making my way back home.
the sound of fireworks outside was enough to let me know that it is a new year and that it has been five years.
five fucking years.
it didn't surprise me when i got under the covers and closed my eyes. no new resolutions, no new hickeys covering me. just another day to get over with. with the past still haunting me, i want nothing more than to be.
a cigarette's smoke. an eaten memory. a caged soul. a breath of despair.
and yes, you still visit me but only in dreams.
YOU ARE READING
hurt & hickeys ✓
Short Story[ COMPLETED ] what is the first thing that a human does after being born? cry. it feels like for the past five years, that's all i've been doing.
