apartment 48

I will probably not remember you when I am old and grey,

I probably won’t even think of you months from now.

I might wake up tomorrow,

or the day after tomorrow,

or the day after that,

and forget you completely.

Already now, I can barely see your face.

Now,

there you are in my mind, a

collection of strokes and lines

and the perfect geometry that you were before

has turned into what seems to be a bigger mess

than Central Station at 7am.

I saw your face in lines and illuminating colours

as I connected all the dots,

creating a masterpiece of my own.

Got drunk on you the moment I touched you,

and inside there was this heat,

this fire,

this unresolved sensation

that I do not yet have a name for

and that touch

it lit me on fire

and right then and there

I knew I would somehow

somewhere

at some point

have to let you

go.

Because nothing good ever lasts.

And by letting go I don’t mean the physical act of letting go,

but the one that tears at your guts

and empties you,

leaves you cold,

like mouthwash,

leaving absolutely nothing behind,

nothing that looks like

it could be glued back together.

I knew it would happen; your smile never once got me fooled.

You are talented in other ways,

I am sure.

And so, I watched you tear me into fragile little pieces,

thinking about everything but me

while you tore into my flesh,

tore into all the wounds

that I had yet to put new band aids on,

you tore apart whatever it was that I had won

from all the pain before you.

You were a brief moment in my life but you,

oh you,

you ended on the highest possible note.

Watching your back as you drifted away f

rom my touch

was truly

the crescendo of my life.

I felt it in my bones

as it flowed through my body,

paralyzing every inch of me,

and it sounded

as if all the songs in the world

started playing all at

once.

In a way,

you turned me into

music.

Reviews

[Twizzler]

This is so poignant and beautiful. Your words come alive and make the reader feel your moment.