Walking in this pavement right now gives me slow treacherous burns – one that makes me stop dead on my tracks and do a once over at everything around me.
I stare at the buildings and think about the stories locked up inside them and I try to hear the wails and cries plastered on the walls. I think about the time I told you how sad they look like and how we’re such selfish dumb kids mocking them with the smiles on our faces.
I look up at the sky and try to time the thunder and lightning and I curse them for not pulling their shits together and realize that it would have been beautiful, and breathtaking, and spectacular if they clash; but knowing it would have been chaos, too.
I stare at my feet on the ground and hate it for letting me walk towards this road. Then I remember you walking beside me with our synchronized feet and call myself a fool for letting myself run with you.
And I curse at the moon so much for stabbing me with a knife and twisting it even farther, I call it a selfish prick and a liar for making me believe that with you walking right beside me with your arms placed heavily upon my shoulder and my hair falling freely upon it is a consistent thing; but I have found amongst it all, an inconsistent thing far more than the moon – is a constant you and me.
I don’t even remember how I used to love celestial beings and astronomy.
The sky is all just gray and clouds, without you to make all else magic around me.