masthead image - an open book



Player Active
13 Feb 17 - 5 Feb 21



Stars bright. Moon large. I went for a walk. Avoided your street. That light where we lingered. The park where we kissed. Stayed away from those memories. From the still images, the cut outs I knew. The thoughts, the moments. The ones that hurt, a little less each day. #130story

Walking past the allotment. I think of you, again. They come more often these days. Images of you digging up weeds, tending your vegetables. Pushing me in the old wheelbarrow. From here to there. It's in my garage now. Unused. Almost forgotten. Almost, yet not quite.

When did it stop. When did you stop being accessible. Was it the first time. The second. That fight we couldn't recover from. That lie you shouldn't have told. I sit alone. Thinking. Thinking back to when we were friends. Friends, no more. #130story

Her children laughed. She stared at the concrete, not new anymore. Chalk pictures and hopscotch, redrawn and erased. She couldn't swallow, couldn't breath. Afraid it would crack. Afraid of his remains. #130story

A beautiful day. Really. Clear skies, sun beating. I gaze into the horizon. Out of my reach. The darkness spreads, flowing through my veins, into my rotten heart. Black tears fall, scald my skin. I fall, face flat to the floor. Dustlight dances. Lays on my still form. #130story

Monitor pulses, machines hum. Your hand icy cold. Talk to her they said, it will be useful. My voice cracks as I whisper unsure. #130story

Coal black skies. Rain falls vertical, ruthless. Beating through the town. Breaking down doors. Taking, tearing, consuming. Again. #130story