blackbird
He stayed placid, choosing to stare at his hands rather than act. And that was, in fact, his decision to make. He had the freedom to do anything or nothing at all.
But he would never, ever be able to forget the screams and the blood. Whether or not he chose to see and hear.
It'll waste and wash away, this feeling.
Maybe it'll come swift, leave sorry.
Leave behind this sorry story
Come and go;
It won't be long
It'll fade
A passing song
All I have to say is no.
I hate you. I wish you and all these memories would just DISAPPEAR.
You're in the air. In between the cracks in the sidewalk. You're behind the walls and the doors. You're there, looking through every distant window.
JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.
I will not be still and sway and bend and break as you wish. NO.
I refuse.
He twisted it, turned it. Threw it and caught it. It consumed minutes, hours, days. It was his obsession, yet something he still couldn't figure out. All he could ever finish was one side. One side of the rubik's cube.
He looked down at his ink-stained hands.
They were long-fingered and pale, riddled with marks of red ink.
Sighing, he looked back at the half-blank paper before him.
The word written over and over and over was for only him to know.
As haphazardly as the words trailed on in spirals and shelves and columns,
they all stopped where the paper was folded in half.
And, like abandoning a half-completed thought, all he could do was wonder why
he could never bring himself to finish what he had started.
Half and a whole
All of me and half of you
With everything that is
And with everything I do
All I can be is half
Half of you
writing since 2012 · 7 entries · 4 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Gianni showed up.
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the words Gianni reaches for
halfwishinkhandspaperfinishbehindsorrysurewholestainedfingeredpaleriddledmarksred