I closed my phone.
Stashed it inside my bag.
Rolled up my sleeves,
Embracing the burning heat.
And an hour before,
I copied formulas
Summed and multiplied numbers
Feeling an itch.
And a day before,
I lazed on the stairs.
Laughed with my friends,
Decoding impossibility.
Hysteria, in a good way
Filled my chest,
And like a bottle of sriracha
Woke me up from my slumber
A delusion to belong
To you only.
YOU ARE READING
Blunt
Short Story"For I am a blunt edge, the dull side that is of a deadly weapon; yet still, I can cut through the waves in an odd sense." -Forgive and Take- "Like a progressive evolution of a semi-completed music score, our hands reach out of the nebula. We pictur...
