Word Count: 150
Tw: implied drug use
Bliss is such a fragile thing,
yet found in so many places, associated with so many things.
He used to find it in stargazing.
He used to find it in music that twined with the rafters.
He used to find it during lazy days,
watching dustmotes in a shaft of sunlight.
He used to find it in books,
in laughter and love,
in sweaters and tea.
He finds it now in blank, glassy eyes
that fail to see stars and dustmotes.
Ears that drown out intricacies of music.
A nose that doesn't recognise tea.
A mind no longer fit for books and an emptiness too selfish for laughter or love.
All that remains is a body that can only feel the tattered cot beneath him and a brain drowning in toxins.
He found bliss in many places,
but drugs felt like home.
He forgot that it was a broken home.
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction
Short StoryA collection of short stories, ranging in lengths between 100 words and 1000 words, although mine are usually 200 words long. Various genres from different prompts included. (False Advertising on the cover, I know.) Mature themes and language It's b...
