The skin has hardened, curling into itself-seams of sowed up flesh clinging to each other. There is a numbness that lingers there, the lack of feeling being the only evidence that there once was intimacy.
Idealism is the only thing I've ever had. Equations lay before me, concrete and reliable. I had orchestrated your part before your reflection had become clear. Your fingers press into the wrong ivory keys, turning my brain into heat, the feeling of wool scraping my flesh.
There was no way. It was not your deviations that convinced me but rather the nude state I had found myself in. You never spoke your truths very much so this was confirmation. Did you not see my teething? Did you not see the scars in my chest, pre-etched and polished? Everything tasted so new, I might have been insane.
It would have been great, on paper on paper on paper. But you are blood and bone and rock and water and love and hate. Error.
You brush past me in the sea, another blurry picture.
Always or now?
YOU ARE READING
Moments
RandomThese are the moments of my life that I can't stop watching. The ones that are sometimes too real for me to stomach, to sticky for me to let go. I hope you feel something.
