Presença Hecatombe

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed. She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to. She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three. Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap. Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her. You say: I dated her a while back. You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume. You say: She was younger than me. You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered. You say: It’s nothing now. You don’t say: But it was everything then.

i dreamed about you last night. it was dark and my chest was hurting. waking up was just as bad. i’m still waiting for the day you’ll no longer haunt me.

Você reaparece na minha vida, Annalise, e não aguento mais. Ainda me tem e odeio isto! Eu não te odeio, mas eu… Odeio o jeito que você me deixa, porque eu não posso te ter.