A Question of Love"Dan?"
"D'you love me?"
"Are you sure? How d'you know?"
"Well.. Um, I guess I'd not thought about it 'till you asked
just now; I figure if I did I'd've thought about it already."
"Oh.. Well, d'you think you'll ever love me?"
"I dunno, maybe.."
"Will you let me know?"
"I suppose I love you then, 'cause I already thought about it."
"Mmm, I'm hungry. Want dinner?"
* * * * * * *
"Louis, you've known Daniel for ever, right?"
"Yes, Andrea, I've known him for a while.."
"Do you think he'll ever love me, and why don't you call me
Andy like everyone else?"
"Your name is Andrea, so that's what I call you."
"But everyone else calls me Andy."
"I'm not everyone else."
"Do you think Daniel will ever love me?"
"Daniel goes about things in a very stange way."
"Yeah, but will he ever love me? I can't think of anything he
"Do you need him to love you?"
"I suppose not, but it'd be ni-"
"Well, he shows things differently. He likes you
Impossible as You AreStanding in the doorway of a room I don't recognise though know surprisingly well, I run over the two options, my two options, in my head.
In the room you sit on a couch. There's little going on in the room and with a quick scan of it's scenery you and the couch are quite literally it's only feature. I've been in this room for so long. There's no temperature, and if it has a smell I've long become accustomed to it. The couch is nothing special but it's not the center point of the room.
There's nothing about you I don't know, not in the immediate in any case. There is only the odd experience you had before I met you lifetimes ago that simply never came up. Everything else is either familiar or known at the very least.
I've sat on that couch with you for countless amounts of time, wrapped myself in you, gazed at you. I know you're every feature like the hills of the small town I grew up in. Eyes closed I can still see the very landscape of the perfect form that is your face. I k
Do I love you?Listening to the soft exhales of the warm body I'm tangled with I stare into the black of the ceiling.
I realize my eyes are closed, and open them. Things look the same, only confusing.
I close them again.
I strain, searching myself for that skipping heart beat, that flutter that once came from thinking of them. It's painfully absent.
The idea of being here, every day, night; churns my stomach.
There is one thought that is vibrant in the back of my mind. Soft lips, smooth skin, bright eyes. None belong to the person with whom I'm almost one.
With acknowledging the existence of these background phantoms comes their drawing slowly to the foreground.
An eternity from here she exists, even if only in the chaos of my heart.
A memory, almost entirely. Faded from my life, the only remnants: the void she created and filled by being alive.
Something in the room stirs. It is me.
I slowly untangle myself from the mess that lay next to me.
Moving with the utmost caution, I desire not to disturb th
A broken startSitting, body tired; mind awake with the vibrant ghosts of pasts scarred deeply.
Images racing, dodging lefts and rights; traffic merging fears and doubt.
Knowing without knowing; everything is as you see it through closed eyes.
Nothing, completely with but hints of the reality that was once thought real.
No void. An icicle of ill feeling shoved through occupied space, shivers run freely.
Shallow breaths, pounding chest. Multiple whacks with the new found truth.
Everything is different. Though, as always, the same.
An open door, always yours. A broken start, a wasted heart. For ever.. I love you.
Self JourneyI wake up in the middle of the darkest night I've ever experienced, cold and with a feeling of great loss.
Not knowing what is missing, only that it is missing, I traverse through the jungle that is my room.
I step on countless things that I don't recognize, moving and quivering under my feet.
Upon reaching where I assume the door is situated I claw forwards in an attempt to refine it's location.
I bang my hand on the doorknob. I wait a few moments to make sure the noise has woken no one.
The bathroom is close, and the only source of a mirror. Light is out of the question at this hour.
I'm uncomfortable. I move around until I'm not.
The bathroom is cold, empty and spacious. I feel connected to this room; echoes know no bounds.
I creakily close the door as quietly as I can and flick on the light. The room becomes sterile.
I gaze at the familiar stranger in the window. Bright tired eyes, crooked upper lip, almost imperfect nose.
A look of discontent, followed by confusion crosses his fac
Sunday morning FridaysAlmost startling me in my half sleep, the bell rings throughout the entire school and out into the streets where passers by and even some of the residential homes can here it's deep bass tones reverberating off every hard surface in the area. Thirteen rings I count, not sure if I counted the right amount given starting four or five rings in and just estimating how many had already passed. I lift my head sleepily off my desk and give Lucy an early morning look despite it being the middle of the afternoon. I casually decide that a stretch would be the best way to wake me up. I put my arms behind my head, push my chest out and let out the biggest yawn I'm sure I've ever done, nearly passing out from the lack of oxygen traveling to my brain. Most of my books are already packed up in anticipation of the end of the class. By the time there's only twenty minutes left in the class everyone is already spent and no one feels like doing any more work. People start to pack up their books, discreet