Member-only story
Further From You
Cherry spilled from your mouth, and your words hit vibrations that controverted completely south. Crushed bird feathers unwound from the seams of your fingertips and fell right in front of my feet. I looked up as you brushed past me and took a seat. I could feel the humming of music as you lulled sleepless stares into the back of my neck. You climbed the highest mountains with just the touch of your hands. I knew incredibility was just a notion of made up thoughts, you were the puppeteer to the very idea. I sought smells of freshly brewed coffee and the musk of chopped wood lying on a moss bank in the summer time. You were a strange contraption, from the mop of sandpaper curls on your head, to the strange angles that your feet took shape in. Stepping on the crushed bird feathers, it bled black and red, clumping in tresses, thickening. I drag myself, the force of a sudden gravity pulling me back and further in, almost drowning me. It smelt toxic, disparaging to me the very existence of you. I watched cherry spilling from your mouth turning from the brightest shade of red to the darkest shade of black. I was certain it was not you, but the broken enigma was a disparity, it was proof. It was something that you hoped would change. The clock was ticking on you and I’s timeline, it slowed down and fastened all at the same time. But the cogs were wasting, the upper hand and lower hand rusting. And so, cherry was not the shade I saw anymore. Words turned into deafening silence. And the existence of you came to an abrupt end, floating thoughts and forgotten words of the ideological you.
