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“Certain breeds of chicken exhibit a behavior known as brooding. When no Rooster is present they will diligently incubate eggs incapable of hatching, forgoing food and water despite the impossibility of newborn chicks.” It seemed like you had been waiting for quite some time like collapsed steam on cold coffee surface. I watched you there torn apart in the light shadow fragments packing your edges away like foreclosed tenants with an immaculately well maintained yard. By turns violent and mundane, open mouth smelling of monsoons and hot morning skin. On the pillowcase your fingertips bloomed like incandescent daffodils. Nights posing as days stray forth and return, with a casual politeness commonly reserved for political debate spectatorship and cocktail mixers. Not quite grim. Not fully present. Standing alone in a gleaming room begging for a sliver of crawling blackness to tempt the curve of your hip back into my hand. If there was time left, I could have figured it out. “I understand that you are sad and I am sorry. I told you this would happen. I am not having this conversation right now, so I am sorry for that too.”
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:25 AM UTC
Amongst The Fireflies
“Certain breeds of chicken exhibit a behavior known as brooding. When no Rooster is present they will diligently incubate eggs incapable of hatching, forgoing food and water despite the impossibility of newborn chicks.” It seemed like you had been waiting for quite some time like collapsed steam on cold coffee surface. I watched you there torn apart in the light shadow fragments packing your edges away like foreclosed tenants with an immaculately well maintained yard. By turns violent and mundane, open mouth smelling of monsoons and hot morning skin. On the pillowcase your fingertips bloomed like incandescent daffodils. Nights posing as days stray forth and return, with a casual politeness commonly reserved for political debate spectatorship and cocktail mixers. Not quite grim. Not fully present. Standing alone in a gleaming room begging for a sliver of crawling blackness to tempt the curve of your hip back into my hand. If there was time left, I could have figured it out. “I understand that you are sad and I am sorry. I told you this would happen. I am not having this conversation right now, so I am sorry for that too.”
somethingwithhorns
Written by
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:25 AM UTC
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