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Is it even real?

The stinging in your chest, the humming noise in your left ear, the tears pouring down unheeded. Your mind refuses to acknowledge the pain. Your reason has left; it watches from afar this desperate body, twitching, shaking and falling apart… It laughs even, at the lack of control, the pitiful madness that has finally broken through the concrete skin.

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The unbearable hours

She was staring at her red, swollen finger, hot water running down the plate in her hands. She couldn’t move. Tears wanted to form but she wouldn’t let them. Crying was accepting; and she still hoped.

He saw the steam rising and run to the sink, pulled her burning hands away, bewildered.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, J?’

She shook her head, evasive, and walked away. Stalled at the door, not knowing where to go, what to do with herself; the words in her head like a broken disk ‘I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it!

She squeezed her hands, welcoming the distraction of the throbbing pain. Why was the flesh so easy to endure?

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Yours

What is it all becoming, if not sorrow?

The nights wonder how his breath feels on the back of her head; ache for a touch, a gaze. The mornings cling desperately to a fading dream..

Perhaps amnesia is all you’ve left to wish for; forgetting his name, your own.. his maddening words. ‘One day’ he says, but you can’t bear it. Your whole body turns into a wound and you keep waiting for the skin to fall off so you could breathe again; but you know his absence shrinks around your neck every time your heart beats amiss.

Let me be! you beg. Let me be yours..

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S. is for Stranger…

A post from the past, translated – January 2013

We talked everyday; conventionally. Frozen looks hiding insurmountable chemistry. I could never convince my body to get up from the chair and go home. The clock stopped when our eyes met; and if we were close, it never mattered what we said, if we said anything…

But then we met, like I’d never dared to dream; him and I, alone and unashamed. He smiled, the look in his eyes turning page after page of me, re-writing history. And I knew then I’d always carry his smile, curious and sweet, sealed in my heart.

I couldn’t breathe when I got home. I couldn’t breathe for days after; I would still feel his fingers on my back and my skin ached. My ears ringed, exhaustingly replaying the whispers.

My hands still shake when I type in my email, terrified of his silence. The clock doesn’t stop anymore and I wonder how long I have left until doom.

How I wish I could be yours. The way I was no one’s before…

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