“It’ll hurt, you know.”
I told him.
“Yeah, I know”
He answered softly.
“Then why do it?”
“I want to hold something incredible. I want to posses something so rare, so euphoric, that even the poets who write grandiose metaphors about it have never even had a taste of it.” The hardness in his eyes could have destroyed entire universes. With a simple inhale, he destroyed mine.
“So that’s it then?”
“I suppose it is.”
“You know, sometimes, when we look for things like that, we come out disappointed.”
One last, feeble attempt to stop his heart from beating. To save not only him, but myself.
“Then I guess I have to make sure this time isn’t like that.”
“How will you manage that?”
“I won’t get completely lost in this one. I’ll have every experience that everyone else has, I’ll fall completely in love, and then, when heart break is about to strike, I’ll disappear.”
I just wish he would have realised that things are never that simple.
YOU ARE READING
Academy Of American Bullshit
PoesiaCollection of poetry, parts of short stories, and the occasional rant written by an artist who is angrier than she'd like to admit.
