The Break

Felt disillusioned by the tales told and her worried way of responses. The stars hung lower, air stood still in a chilling bite of a supposed gentle wind. Why we live here, is a question in need of answering. Latches buckled so tight on my abdomen like welding me shut from a life once lived open. I walk, one foot in front of the other, unconsciously accomplished before and now intra-personalized procedure. Never forgot how to walk but stumbling over anything that's not you in my mind.
Our apartment is starving for an argument or any heightened sense of emotion. Like every morning lately is filled with the aroma of coffee and funeral. Too calm, like an apparition, in the air and our motions to make note of progress. Ice on the trees wait patiently to crack, chapped lips, soft kiss but only when you sleep. The distance from my couch and your bed continues on.... further each funeral. For what I perceive and the play you starred in were mere poetry of false intentions. Now, is three months from then, locked-in, with my latches permanently fixed and your future without acting... Goodbye for now, or ever, for nothing can repair what's been damaged.

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