We don't talk after that night.
Well...we do but it's only because he tries to start up some conversation in the halls and I profusely cut him off. I don't feel bad. At all. After that night, after his words had finally sunken in on the bus ride home, I had finally realized that I didn't need him.
Except I did. It's so fucking hard for me to let him go, my mind and heart fighting and never showing signs of stopping any time soon.
The bell rings and I make my way downstairs and into the cold afternoon.
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I wake with the sounds of birds chirping outside my window like broken whistles and
wind chimes.
My eyes gaze out the glass punched into the wall with curiosity.
Noise wields its axe onto my head, its sharp edges cutting into my skull and piercing my brain.
It's Monday, again.
My hand shoots out from where I've taken refuge under my sheets and hits the silver button that stops my alarm.
The noise stops but the pounding in my head has not. I don't move for a long time, the warmth of my bed way too comforting to
leave right now.
I hate Mondays.
Eventually, reluctantly, I get up and get ready for school.
I really hate Mondays.
Inside the bathroom, sleep drowned eyes stare back and dark purple moons hang beneath the skin.
my morning goes as follows;
Toothpaste falls from the brush into the sink, swirling away; water burns hands; glasses fog in the steam of the room; favorite pants rip; almost slip down the stairs.
In the kitchen, the toast is burnt; a cup clatters and breaks; glass slips into
unprotected skin; rush to clean up; run outside without my sweater; I almost miss the bus.
I really hate Mondays.
-----------
Gold, orange and brown crunch under heavy feet. Hands tucked in warmth and clouds curling past cold lips.
You don't speak and I don't either. What do I say?
Today you decided to walk
home together, and I agreed.
I'll do anything with you.
YOU ARE READING
Wing Ridden Angel | ✔️
Short StoryHush little angel, don't say a word Bottle full of pills, passed out on the curb Sun brings heat and it just won't snow Noose like a necklace on my neck, won't go I was too slow 'cause I won't understand Blade for your cries, count a penny for my si...
