OneMatchExplosion
It had our initial engraved at the bottom. It never really mattered much, until you switched to plastic.
I had spent most of my life looking for a guide to take me to where I had never been, but it was at this moment that I realized the passport I needed had been in my own pocket the entire time.
I could feel the fight finally coming to an end. I said what I had wanted to say and now the silence grew heavier with every minute. He looked up at me and his baby blues were filled with such innocence that it saddened me. Our point of views were so far from each other that it was hard for us to even meet in the middle.
The words were spoken but they just hung in the air. There were no willing ears to listen. Like a message in a bottle sent out to sea with no destination.
She was a painter. Her pen was her brush and paper her canvas.
"You don't get upset like other people do," she said. "Something small happens, like a good bye that comes too soon or a door that closes too hard and you retreat into an abyss of pain. A canyon that you always know is there and carefully spend every day walking around trying not to fall in."
He chips away at the my walls that I once thought to be so strong. I am nothing and everything when he looks at me and He can see all of me when these walls no longer stand. Am I too much or not enough?
writing since 2016 · 7 entries · 7 days shown up
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the words you reach for
wallshardchipsstronglongerstandupsethappensbyesoondoorclosesretreatabysspaincanyon