I say I hate you and wish to meet you all over again. The clickity clack of our matched footsteps are Telltales of promises unkept. My dainty fingers do a twisted dance of claws burrowing themselves inside my hair and pulling it out over every scarring snare you throw at me, the dirt from our foot when we walked on red waters swims to collapsed fungal divinity, our reality, just as we look at the dead eyes and parched lips, our throats chokes when we say our I hate yous On the last echo of our silence we said our I hate yous. They are also psychics telling me my days yet unnumbered and vomiting truth that creates puncture wounds over neck nerves, which makes my every dream end in cold silence or trembling shreiks. The tiny fairies on my bed sheet are squeaky storytellers of time, and engineers of my dreams, I believe.
I want to name a color bleh and make it the most majestic, but oh I just cannot imagine a new bud, a unique color, maybe that’s why I could never imagine love with you. It’s sad how we can imagine the things that we already know, I strive to imagine a new color but all that comes in my head is black blue orange and more. My heart is formed only to break when we say our I hate yous Sounding heavenly only because the notes they strike find someplace inside and ignite a dark comedian on fire and I cement the charred remains with clay of worm infested last uncapitalized ghost of mud. Their chaotic patterns an opera of haunting fractures, With realisation of our disgusting love we said our I hate yousĬhime. Just speak of worlds where the missing colors of our fire licked rainbows could be seen cowering under shaky gutters.Įvery hollow space in my body every nook cranny corners uncannily waited for your fitting jagged pieces to be whole of a quarter. You would collapse or die but never cry or sigh. I swim in the motion of mountains breaking, the growing screams assure us of their masculinity, while the pieces fall.
The bowl remained empty as sentences adorned themselves with full stops of sorts, whole and full, an air of finality within them. Our life took a bowl made up of faded chewed candies and begged for words sounding similar to nonetheless or but, When filtered light dimmed and trotted it’s way through the patched, thatched clothe, ugly mismatched threads piercing it a thousand times over with dirt infecting the needle wounds, viruses of dooms flowing somewhere not there, just as the halo of crowned defeat descended over our heads by winged lizards, Walking down a corridor of flowing curtains, creamy white color disguising the torturous time.
I remember the first time we said our I hate yous.Ī cold November evening dense with charms of misfits past.
0 kommentar(er)
