domingo, octubre 18, 2009

179. Vindication

Publicado por Alba |

I started smoking, it grates my throat. Maybe you can quit now for good. While taking the filter to my lips I don't think about you, although that might not be true. It could be a big fat lie. I desperately try to get away from you, in a real and definite way. And, the harder I try, the more you come back to me.

Everything we know is stardust. We are becoming condescending assholes with emptied out fractions of a single soul and a resigned hunger for validation.

With shared silence the most sacret thing, the way full of thorns and spikes, rushing and panting to get to a clear spot where hopefully it is save enough to rest your chipped bones and weary eyes.

I want to feel your eyes on me when I look away.

Pretending to live my life, taking notes for when I really have to do it. Repeating, over and over again, the answer must be in the attempt.

I hate that. All those places, where we were, you were at not even that long ago. Now they're empty, but you're still there. We are still there, and it will always and forever more be happening. And nothing else will take place in all those places, not unless you come back to make new moments. They will remain dead. Otherwise.

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