I know you won’t read this and I know you won’t care but I will tell you what it was like.
It was blurry. it was slow but time was running fast. It was dusty feet and dusty souls. It was feeling nothing and then all at once. It was hating you to drown the urge of hugging you. It was writing a poem and post it wishing you will relate to it.
But who cares, you don’t.
May 2017. I wrote this instead of telling you, even though you were there, dancing next to me. And we were made out of poison, finding new ways to hurt each other.