Monologue.


I am sitting on the corner of the couch, my hands in front of me, I can feel your breath on my neck, your arms rolled around me, containing me, you holding me tight that I can’t move my hands, to spit you out into an assortment of letters on a blank space.

I look into the smoke going out my lips, seeing if any particle of you went away. The room is getting smokier and there is no trace of you, but in my veins running towards my brain urging me not to give you an existence elsewhere, not to turn you into a share-able item that would tear our dimension into theirs and disrupts them.

I listen to the music coming from a far, fading out like the me that used to fill up my soul before it got mixed with you. l, my soul depleted and I can’t be without you, I disregard the thought.I ignore it. I know that it is the you in me who wants me to believe that everything is about you; it is your ego triumphing over acquiring mine.

I look into nowhere to find you, I see glimpses of the sparkle proceeding  your eyes, I use it to guide me. It burns me into oblivion that one day may be one day I will be sitting on the corner of the couch, I would feel your breath on my neck, your arms rolled around me.

I close my eyes.

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