Blinking twice, nothing is seeping through, not a single breath of air.
It’s ordinary, the way things should always be.
Shallow, weightless, and without a single trace behind.
Nothing is different. Only replicas of who I am that get to speak to strangers, holding tighter onto what should be kept to myself –Edges I choose to hide and cherish, especially the worn-out out ones.
Repeated ballads of missing those who leave –they chose to– remind me of the lingering bruises that hardly ache when touched. Nerves failed to function and merely remained numb.
I myself had shed some old skin, and grown into a thicker one of weary synapses that turned me blue and cold.
Foolish had I been to belittle myself,
magnifying your ego into believing that I was nothing but a speck of stardust, and you
a grand, colorful nebula, that merely reflected how I wanted to pour what my heart held, had you deserved compassion, at least.
You, blank and empty like this cliché of a simile to a black hole, swallowed me alive and spat me out the minute I uttered a no.
Not a hostage this time I was, when you heard the clatter of what locked the door I slammed, leaving the decay of what was left of me to overflow.
Fumes of a solstice, was never true, and never there to embrace you being reborn, because I’ve never loved you, and you never did.
You wanted to worship a shooting star and you never dared to touch the sky.
Random Thoughts 