Day 20. it's not only Neruda that can write the saddest liness
The way you smile in your sleep. That is how in my subconscious state i imagine how you curl in your sheets through those 4am conversations. It leaves me with nothing else to say but to devour the sweet sound of pure bliss in your voice - with eyes closed. And i remember the thin sheets from my end, 77 kilometers away, ecstatic with the remnants of how you fell asleep with me. We would curl in silence, breathing the thin crust of madness we called bliss and escaping into the fantasy of just us against the world. There was nothing else that mattered except for you and me, love was probably a potion we invented right then and there.
I remember the times when i get too high thinking just how your hands could fit mine. And though the world was against us, we created our own world in unparalleled euphoria. You breath the same air i breath and our pounding hearts would beat simultaneously, sounding as one. You were a drug so incredibly unavoidable and i was hooked.
But now, you no longer curl the way that i do. The void is so big the size of the ocean won’t fit it. And i would be strangled with the same air that you breath, it leaves me breathless. It suffocates in a way that a single word won’t even be spared to howl for distress. The unfamiliarity soon waved its way up to the highest peak before plunging in a pile of mistrust and hatred and when it did reach the ground, it shattered into a million pieces - almost into dust.
Now, i am not home. I have been constantly swirling around in circles to meet both ends, in an endless routine to battle this feeling of emptiness you gave me.
