Maybe this is my destiny.


Maybe I'm destined to keep the final drop of self-love above my lungs. My blood almost drained and dried out by spilling out into the wrong sea, showering all my effort and time on people who don't know how to reciprocate it.


I had to stop walking with ghosts and begin to embrace my own lovely shadow in the dark. I had to pick up small pieces of me and rebuild this second chance of being alone.


I learned to pair the word isolation to new happiness.


He knows better than these people. Loving you wasn't regretting at all, but the remnants of loss and helplessness can't take a decade of practical oblivion
to wash you away fully from my memory.


It was the work of weather.


Weatherly, neither you nor I couldn't tell how to stop the bleeding. I learned to shut all the doors and block all the soldiers out because


the cupid in me is already dead.





© ubik