#queue tee pie

In retrospection, she is a flower sitting prettily on thorns. So beautiful and radiant – she blooms in spring  & dies in winter. Where she danced with the rain & fell under the snow. A fragile flower with petals too silky to be touched by frost.

Most days, you can taste it on your tongue. Some days, you can feel it between your bones. It is like the remains of fire…where the lingering smoke seeps out from between your teeth and the burning sensation cools down slowly. The aftermath of something so beautiful & so destructive. And all it left behind is a period of numbness. Where all you can do is lie there & wonder what happened… where he went… & why he left.

It is MIDNIGHT & you can hear it in the silence – the whispers of her. Her voice so soft, so sweet, so realistic…but she is not here. Not with you. Never with you. It is DUSK & you can smell the scent of her perfume – flowery and captivating – next to you. Almost as if her smell clung onto your pillows. Almost as if it belongs to you. But it doesn’t. She doesn’t. It is DAWN & you can feel your heart break again. Shattering into shards as her euphoric pants penetrated the thin walls. Your heart breaks. It breaks. How dare you fall for your brother’s girl?

what do you know of heartache? of the shattering hearts? of the suffocating feeling made by wrecked sobs & the hopelessness tied around your soul?