My week of euphoria lasted a month and a half. Remembered yesterdays showed my long-lost friends to be older men, not different ones.
I return home by following a crooked black thread. I reach the end of the line to find it attached to my wrist. I pick at the cord and unravel my veins, like bad cotton stitching. My lover finds me half-asleep and sprawled on the living room armchair. She shrugs away her hysteria.
There's no need to argue any more.
12:05 a.m. - 2015-05-14
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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