Thoughts hitting me with recklessness that can only be compared with the harsh crashing of waves against the jagged rocks of the shore. Her. Always her. Memories of her were like the waves. My mind, my body, my soul, the rocks. I live helplessly, the memories eroding me, washing bits and pieces and fragments away until I was left with nothing. Again. Nothing of her, nothing of myself.
Wait.
It's you again.
No, her.
It's her.
I lose myself.
But then again, can you really lose something that doesn't exist, or was it always lost in the first place?
She's standing against the wall, smoke billowing around her, looking like something pulled from an album cover of your favorite band.
I walk over.
My lips are on her, my mind is on you.
Only you.
I pull away from you.
No, her.
I pull away from her.
Her lips held the taste of tears, nicotine, and complete, utter desperation.
Her eyes held only one thing.
Destruction.
In as many or as few ways as possible.
I lean in, my whisper dancing along her ear, an empty promise.
"Please, can I call you her name?"
YOU ARE READING
Arctic
Random>Arctic< This a series of short stories that correspond to various songs by the Arctic Monkeys, and tell an overall story as it proceeds. Enjoy. See you later, innovator :)
