whitecanvasturningcoloured
There was a sharp sound in the night. The birds went silent. Something cold trickled on the pavement.
It was a Monday when the kid found it. There was only one suspect. He had an alibi. He had been dead.
When he looked into her eyes, he saw stars shining their light onto him. He saw a million galaxies in the depths of her irises. He saw distant moons and nebulae. And when she looked at him, she saw the light of the stars and moons and nebulae radiating from his skin. They adored each other as two galaxies spiraling together in a cosmic dance.
We go through hell to reach a destination that keeps on moving. What is the purpose of living, if not beating the hell out of all that hell? Keep moving forward.
You know that feeling when you feel like a broken shoe? That's the feeling you get when someone you trusted lets you down... bad. You melt into a dark puddle and that's it. You're a broken shoe no one can mend. Maybe in time, you'll put yourself back together...
Sharp. Crisp. Tough. Cold-blooded. He was The Man. No one would stand in his way. The Man would command, they would follow. He was the executive.
You know those photos we took last year, when you still loved me? I deleted them, just like you deleted me from your memory. It was easier than that, though. They were digital.
Everyday - the same thing. We were all accustomed to his little tantrums. It was a classic move on his side. He usually threw words around. He will soon turn to chairs. And people.
writing since 2011 · 7 entries · 7 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Silvia showed up.
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the words Silvia reaches for
helldeletedsharpcoldfeelingbrokenshoemovingstarslightgalaxiesmoonsnebulaeeverydayaccustomedtantrums