04.19.15

your voice sounded like wind chimes, and the leaves of the trees rustling in a soft breeze, the birds chirping on a Monday morning, reminding me that the world goes on without you around. it kind of stings a little when I think about the way you used to look at me, like the skin healing around the scabbed knuckles you get from punching the walls to relieve frustrations. I remember catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye when you thought I wasn’t watching. you looked at me like I was marvelous, an Ancient Greek sculpture, a work of art that you didn’t seem worthy enough to touch, to hold, to have. the thoughts of past encounters consume me, like ravenous wolves gorging on their kill, blood dripping from their snouts staining the snow crimson. you are like a dream, I don’t think you ever existed at all, a total figment of my imagination. a fake scenario where I actually ended up happy.