Pebbles

If my mind was a sea, your fingers would be imprinted on all the pebbles. All the fossils would be your fingerprints. When you jump in, so deep you can not tell whether you are floating or sinking, disoriented, an odd sense of calmness sets in. I am stuck in an uneasy moment of harmony. Immense pressure, absence itself is present.

But what are tides if not a caress? What is water if not an embrace? The ocean does not seem so scary anymore, now that you are here, now that you are the only thing I could drown in.

The Sea

Awaiting, I looked up, and there they were. The past, the present and the future, my body turned to dust, fingerprints all over it. I can never get enough of small realizations. There is so much to do still, all the eyes I have ever caught are staring right at me. A delusion of self-importance, perhaps. One thing I surely know, it is that the upcoming is here and not anymore so far, and peace is relative and the past has been catching up with me. Perhaps a new start, a new past, present and future. There, they were not.

My Paradise

I run my hand through my own hair now.

My fingers still remember his locks, hardy, resisting. They also remember the rusty scissors, me, pulling apart paradise with my own two hands. My paradise, a battlefield. My paradise, a promise. My paradise, a handful of curls on the kitchen floor. A murder with no blood. My jaw… dropped. Once I was the weapon and he was the handler, how the tables have turned. He opened up, and all I knew how to do was stab. Only then I realized, no amount of silver would give me my golden boy back.