Midday Misanthropy, Midnight Melancholy


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Midday Misanthropy,
Midnight Melancholy


A Collection of Prose





i am the faltering atlas of my own poor decisions, knees straining and mind wandering, unfit to bear the burden of life.

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i touch your soft-white-moon-skin, dragging my fingers like brush-tips down your neck, tracing imaginary lines through your gorgeous-perfect-fragility to your little pale collarbone, sitting all pretty and thin above your chest…

…your chest, so supple-new, so mine. i breathe, i inhale on the nape of your neck, my brush-tip-fingers still gliding over your navel like seabirds skimming over ice. my lips touch your cheek, your cheek, so supple-new, so soft-white, my lips swim to yours…

…my lips, no longer mine, they’re yours now, now-always-ever-yours, vous et nul autre.

my fingertips dance on your inner thigh, our bodies heave together and bend and blend and fit to the music-beat of our heartbeats, beating beating together like tandem drums, for a while we share our lives together, second-by-second closer-to-death.

i only want to melt into you, it’s all-i-want. me and you, forever and a day. i want to grow into you like oak-roots-in-soil and last for a millennia, with you

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why did i love you? for the same reason flowers open up to the sunlight in the morning. for the same reason grass grows towards the sky. i loved you because the moon loves the earth, so much so that they dance together every night. i loved you for the same reason that the stars stick next to one another.
but flowers close again at night. grass gets cut every day. the moon is slowly drifting away from the earth, and the stars in the night sky will one day be extinguished.
and, like a wave dying before it hits the shore, we too weren’t destined for eternity.

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