The Loom of Your Thoughts

Am I the only one here thinking about the other incessantly?

I remember you thought your care packages were pathetic. I wonder what that means for the fact that my biggest headache is how to make sure I get to keep the cartons in which you sent me my stuff, because a greater love than that could not be signified, except by the use of mere cardboard, and a name and address, handscrawled with inattentive care.

Those boxes, I will keep for life. One day, I might use one to ship my heart out to sea, so I can take some time away from it and wait till someone returns to sender.

Till then, I will keep the boxes, and you can have my thinking heart.

Close your eyes

These days I just try to keep to myself

Well aware I've lost touch with everyone else

I understand that I'm fading away

I'd rather play dead than play catch up

Because no one really cares all that much

I can't keep having the same conversations

I look to the floor to keep concentration

Focused hard on every single word

My nails are dug deep and my stomach hurts

I am selfish it seems but I'm trying my best to breathe

Hoping you don't notice as I keep laughing

Penitence

He switched instruments in the midst of making this strange brand of audible love to her, and she watched, wide-eyed and wondrous, the deep red notes rise into the air as he coaxed the bow across his flesh and bones. There was a radiance to the sound, and a horror she mistook for lust.

He crumpled at her feet, lifeless, as the music continued rising in the room.

They found her next morning, smitten and deaf, save for the melody she lovingly heard him play as he slipped away from her grasp.

I've always been alone, but not lonely. Never has it been the other way around.

Until now.

I'm glad you don't seem to have this horrid sinking feeling like I do. I'm surely drowning, and I never learnt how to swim. It's getting late now. Maybe I'll just hold my breath.

A Hollow Scene

He bit her on the shoulder, where moonlight fought to outshine the pearls in her spine. She arched her back, feeling the pain turn to warmth, his eager hands peeling her skin with tenderness.

"Let me love you like a king."

"But I am not a king."

"Not yet, you aren't."

In the quiet love that followed, she grew herself wings of mercury, and rode the winds to her frozen heaven.

His heart clawed at his throat, as streams burst forth from his heavy lungs.

A Winner Every Time

Why

when it rains

does it always pour?

Open

There's an empty space inside my heart

where the weeds take root.