April 9th, Year of Silence

I blink more than sleep. It is because I am enamored by the night’s sky, which looks like the inside of a ripe fig. I do not love, then love it all. And in that love, there is an understanding that all lies and dirty thieves can be eradicated.

I claim allegiance to no one, only to soon follow the first man to cross my path, in noble virtue or disastrous folly. When abuse soon takes place, I am quick to fall on my knees in prayer. Not to be given the courage to walk away, but to be given the strength to withstand it.

Guillermo is gone. This was expected, given my neglect.
Robert flees, as is also expected. He still loves me, he says. As if it is a secret he has held dearly. As if I could possibly be shocked by his admission.

I say, then he says, then they say. Everything is just fucking words, wrongly remembered, deeply injuring.

April 9th, Year of Silence

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