When she opened her eyes, everything was pitch black. Had she gone blind? Perhaps the lights are out. They must have been out for a while.
It was an unfamiliar darkness. Brushing over the ground below, her fingertips were met with a damp carpet of cool moss.
The air was thin. Her breath tore through what seemed to be absolute emptiness. Warm briny tears kissed the earth at her feet, each one punctuated with a gentle hiss.
She held her hands to her face and felt them slowly melt away into the black. Her knobby elbows and bruised knees, her plump belly and rounded shoulders, all of them, one by one she felt them all disappear.
Until all that was left of her was a thought.
And the sound of tears steaming on a mossy carpet floor.
Today, both my body and mind were very sick.
It’s hard to figure out where you fit in someone’s life.
More so when they say one thing, but do something else.
You’re a liar, you know.
I haven’t forgotten. I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
There’s a light in the attic, but the bulb grows dimmer.
The bulb is a liar.
Do you ever check here anymore? What do you do when I go quiet?
You used to check for answers. I don’t think you do that anymore.
You must revel in the quiet.
You must revel in my quiet.
So, I’ll be quiet.
It was there, in the quiet hum of Chino’s guitar playing. Continue reading
Baby, if only you knew Continue reading
Today, I woke up, 22, diploma, employed, and broke.
But still the same 17 year old waiting for something big to happen.
“People change,” he replies dryly and almost too quickly. Continue reading